Appaloosa Blues (Sisters of Spirit #8) (28 page)

My long time friend, Jessica, stepped out, saw me and squealed. She was always thin as a fence post, and was even more so now. “Abigail!” She ran to me and we hugged. I hadn’t been down the mountain since fall, it being the war and all. It was a time to stay close to home.

“We thought you were dead,” she said.

“I will be if’n I have to work that farm alone. You got any help extra here with you?”

“Not really. Jest my husband, Simon. He’s out in the barn. He’s only got one hand, Abigail.”

“I remember. That’s why he didn’t go to war. You had you a boy—”

She shook her head. “The Battle of Nashville. He was in Hood’s army. I got his hat back and some of his letters, but he was amongst the first killed there. Your boys?”

I shook my head. “I’ve no idea. I ain’t seed hide nor hair of ‘em for three-four years.”

“Come in and rest.”

“Cain’t. Got to go home and milk Aggie. I came to see who was left. I don’t reckon I kin work that farm by myself. Was hoping I could hire someone to come help me now and then. I got me a pig I’d trade.”

“You live up next to ol’ stone face don’tcha? The one that looks like a man with a beard?”

“Yes’m.”

“I’ll ask Simon if he kin go up once in a while. That’s a fur piece to walk and still have time to put in a day’s work. The men are still coming back, Abigail. Maybe one of them boys of yourn will return.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not bettin’ on it.”

“I thought the Buchanans lived the other side of you.”

I told her how the missus Buchanan got sick and just gave up on life, and when the mister got home and she died soon after, he shot himself. I said how Mally had left once her folks were gone. “Mally was a good shot. Me, I let the boys do all the shooting. I can’t hit the broad side of a barn when it’s sitting in front of the barrel. So I cain’t hunt for food.”

“Have you tried trapping?”

I nodded. “Mally showed me how and I’ve caught some rabbits. Could I possibly get a hen from you? I’d pay, once I knew what you’d take in return.”

“The raiders killed our flocks, but I have a goose you could have. It was a baby when the rest were killed and I hid it in the brush when the thieves came by.”

“I couldn’t take your only—”

“Simon is going to go get us some chickens and more geese once the crop is planted. You take that there goose back with you. She will walk right along if you put a cord round her neck.”

“Then, thank you.”

Things were looking up. Jessica brought out a long cord and we put a loop around that goose’s neck and tied it with a bowline knot, so as not to choke her.

My time was short, so Jessica walked to the top of the ridge with me and we said our goodbyes there. We used to see each other once a week at meeting time. I didn’t even know if the church was still standing, and neither did she. Jessica and I hugged again, and I walked the goose home.

She squawked and waddled, grabbing a bite to eat now and then as we traveled. Maybe the mountain wouldn’t be so lonely with her nearby, honking at me. A good goose was better ‘n a watchdog, for it can make an awful clamor when it’s aroused.

I kept feeling the rocks under my shoes, and when I stopped to rest, I looked at the hole that was forming there. I wondered if the whites of a goose egg would act like glue, the way the whites of a chicken egg did. I was going to try it, for egg white sure did hold well. Jacob had used it all the time.

One more thing needing fixing. I could feel the weight bearing down on me.

It was well past dark when I arrived home, as the goose slowed me down. I’d spent the last half-hour kickin’ the side of the trail to find it, as it was worn down in the dirt, forming a small ditch. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it, and I’d made it home many a times like this.

I expected Aggie to be bawling at me for neglecting her so long. But she was quiet, not waiting at the fence.

I stopped. Something warn’t right.

A light went on in the cabin and I backed away into the brush, pulling the goose with me. I tied her to a small sapling, then moved over to a stand of trees where I could see into the cabin. I couldn’t leave her tied up for long, or the critters would git her, but she was too noisy to take with me.

Someone was inside and the bulk of the body made it look to be a man. I warn’t expectin’ no man.

I went back past the goose, skirted the cabin on the far side and entered the barn. My lantern hanging there had been lit, and I poked my head in, cautious like.

A horse stood in a stall, unsaddled. I’d never seen it before, munching away on the grain I’d been so carefully saving. Angry, I went further into the barn, looking around. Next to the saddle hung a blanket, Union blue. As far as I knew, my boys had all joined the Confederates.

What in tarnation was I goin’ to do? Hide until he left? Yet...what if it were one of my boys?

If it were a stranger, he’d know someone lived here. A cow left unmilked will get milk fever or go dry. He’d be able to tell, from the size of her udder, that she’d been milked this morning. And that there’d been a fire in the fireplace last night.

Maybe I should go over to Mally’s house and spend the night there. It was pitch dark now, and I’d probably break my neck on the rough trail, but I didn’t want to face a man alone, with no gun.

Suddenly a dog barked, startling me, and as I backed up, it charged around the corner and into the barn. I turned to run, but it caught my dress in its teeth and tore it. It was the size of a wolf, and I backed away to where the pitchfork leaned against the side of the barn and grabbed it with both hands.

“I wouldn’t do that,” a man said. He walked though the door with a pistol in his hand.

“Abigail?” he said.

I looked at this stranger with his long beard and Jacob’s voice.
After five years? Could it be?

“Jacob?”

He put the pistol away. “Yes. Down, Barney. Sit.”

The dog sat immediately. My legs felt so weak I almost joined him.

“Sorry about him. He’s still young. Aggie was waiting when I got here. I milked her and hoped you hadn’t got yourself hurt, since you wouldn’t have left her uncared for. I figured you’d gone to the Buchanan’s and were just late getting back.”

“I went to the settlements. Got me a goose.”

He nodded. “Where are the boys?”

“Grown and gone.”

“Even Razzel?”

“Yes. They didn’t stay any better ‘n you.” I didn’t intend to accuse him of neglect, but it came out that way, and thinking of it, he had.

 “Did you get yourself another man? I wouldn’t blame you.”

“No.” Jacob had always been man enough for me. It was just that he had to see what was on the other side of the hill.

“You done with your seeing?” I asked him. He had grown older, there was a touch of gray in his beard, but he still had the size to fight a bear if he came across one. My boys were all like him, big men who could handle life. I could only hope they’d handled the war.

“There’s another ocean out there,” he said, his voice glowing with remembrance, “past some plains and some mountains. When I got to it, I turned around. Was coming home when a war got in the way.”

“You come to stay?”
I wanted him to. Oh, how I wanted him to.

“No.”

My heart fell. It was as I expected, the wanderlust would never leave him. I felt like all the gumption had plumb gone out of me. He’d never settle down until he died and got buried in some foreign land.

He looked me over. “You always were the prettiest gal on the mountain.”

“I ain’t any longer.”

He shook his head. “Can’t prove it by me.”

“Jacob, I’m the only gal on the mountain.”

That brought a smile to his face. “I crossed many a mountain. Wherever I went, you were always with me, always talking to me and showing me your love in the little ways you do.”

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, sort of hesitant like. “You should see it out there, Abigail. The wind blowin’ off the water. It makes you feel alive.”

“I like the mountains. And trees.”

“There’s mountains. Higher than these. And the trees are so big it takes a day to walk around one. If you cut one down, you can build a whole town with the lumber.”

“So?”

“You were always doing something for someone. I wanted better for you—for us. I built us a place in California. Near that ocean. Hired a man to care for it while I come to fetch you and the boys. That is, if you’ll leave this here farm. We’ll have a fine living on my new place. Soil is good and black. And deep. We won’t have to plow around the boulders.”

When Jacob had left, I’d refused to go with him. Our youngest, Razzel, was only twelve, and I had heard of the western lands and the wild Indians and the blizzards and wildfires. I’d wanted no part of it.

Now, what was here for me? A farm that had taken the best years of my life and almost killed me a few times? And would certainly kill me this winter. I didn’t owe it anything. And if it had been the strongest house on the mountain, I wouldn’t have stayed. If Jacob was leaving, I was going with him. This time I wasn’t about to be left behind.

“I know you’re attached to this place, but—”

“Not attached. Not any longer. Oh, Jacob, I’ve missed you so much.” And I started to bawl, louder than Aggie when she wants milking bad.

He stepped near and circled me with those long, strong arms of his. “And I missed you, too. You were too stubborn to go with me, while I was bound and determined to find us a better place than this.”

“I wasn’t being stubborn, Jacob. I was afraid.”
But too stubborn to admit it.

“You? Afraid?”

“I didn’t want to take my boys out in that wild land. This place was so secure.”

“They went anyway,” he said, leading the way to the house. He slapped his hand on the side of his leg, and Barney shot out ahead of us, tail wagging.

“Yes. First Gage, the week after you left. If you remember right, he was twenty. Then Daniel, then the rest of them, whenever they reached sixteen.”

We went inside. I looked around. It was the only home my boys had known. “What if they come back and I’m not here?” I worried.

“We’ll tell the Buchanans.”

“They’re both dead.” I told him what had happened to them. “Only Mally is alive, and she went to Missouri to live with kin.”

“Good for her.”

“I don’t know how we could leave a message.”

“We’ll tell people as we go along, mentioning California. If any of those boys do look for you, they’ll come. I ain’t waiting here for ‘em.”

“Then I won’t either.”

He drew me into the firelight, looked me up and down and kissed me soundly. I loved his kisses. It was how he’d wooed me away from that young flatlander who thought he’d get a chance with me.

“I love you, Mrs. Courtney. I’ve been a long time waiting. I’d ‘ave been back a lot sooner, if I could’ve. Got swept up into that there war. Man with a gun said I either joined them or I was the enemy. So I became a Union soldier. Wasn’t particularly fighting for anything, except to stay alive and get back to you.”

I believed him. “I love you, Jacob. Just don’t leave me again.”

“Never.” He pulled off his boots and I shucked out of my dress, then stood there in my raggedy chemise, as he took off his shirt, then his britches.

I was thinking hard. I knew I’d forgotten something.

As he grabbed my hand to pull me into bed, I stopped him, saying, “Wait! Jacob, the goose!”

THE END

This is Abigail’s story. If you wish to find out what happened to young Mally, read
THE HANDSOMEST MAN IN THE COUNTRY,
a novella and #1 in The Traherns.

BOOKS BY OTHER AUTHORS

SAMPLE: KILL TO INHERIT

THE MAN IN GRAY SERIES (MYSTERIES)

Prologue:
Enter the Ghost

Sam Riley pulled off the narrow dirt road and stopped the borrowed police cruiser on the edge of the ditch. Opening the door, he adjusted the small Colt .380 in the holster under his left arm and glanced at the badge clipped to his belt. The sun caught the window glass on the door of the new 1929 Durant, flashing the light across Riley’s face. He ducked his head slightly to let the Fedora block the glare and then stepped out onto the packed soil. Sucking in a breath of cold air, Riley scanned the tree line back to the driveway he had passed.

From Washington to Washington was a long train trip. He’d borrowed the police cruiser in Seattle to drive out to the Fonck mansion in the foothills of nowhere. He wasn’t expected company, and he didn’t expect a warm welcome. Especially once he started asking his questions. He tugged at the long gray overcoat he wore, straightening it out, allowing easy access to his gun, then started up the driveway.

Wind blew the branches and they rattled a little. Most of the leaves had fallen, yet so many trees were evergreens that he couldn’t see the house. When it finally came into view, it shocked him. It was bigger than anything back East. He shook his head, knowing that there wasn’t anyone around for many miles and that a lot of work would have gone into a home this size. Four cars were parked in front of the house, all Fords. The grass near the house had been cut short and a large barn could be seen out back.

He was still taking in the big picture when the front door opened and a man stepped outside, a rifle cradled across his left arm. He stood in the shade of the porch and didn’t appear much more than a shadow.

“Good evening.” Riley called out.

The man nodded.

“I’m looking for Mister Fonck.”

“Which one?”

Riley heard a window open and looked up. A rifle barrel parted the curtain and then steadied on him. “I’d like to talk to Pierre.”

The man shifted a little and his rifle leveled off, pointing directly at him. “I’m Pierre.” He nodded at Riley. “Who are you?”

Riley pushed his hat up a little as he thought of the best reply, and when he decided on one, he answered, “FBI.”

He was staring at  Pierre when he spoke and from the corner of his eye he saw a flash of light from the rifle protruding from the window. Instantly he was struck in the head with a sledgehammer-like force. Lights exploded in his vision, followed by darkness.