First Dawn (36 page)

“Wyatt Pell.” The man shook Ezekiel’s hand and then followed along until they were inside the Harban dwelling.

Ezekiel pointed to one of the log chairs in the dugout. “Just what was it you fellas was thinkin’ to accomplish by yer actions?”

“Clifton Mowry—he’s the fellow that was riding the black mount—he’s determined to find Thomas and return him to Louisiana.” Wyatt’s voice was laced with a deep southern drawl.

“Sounds as though you might be from Louisiana, too,” Ezekiel ventured.

The man nodded. “We’re all from Louisiana—known each other since we were young boys. All the same, I don’t hold with what’s going on. Clifton’s gone too far this time.”

“What you mean, gone too far?”

“Shooting innocent people and setting homes on fire. It’s crazy, but he’s afraid the truth is going to come out and
he’ll
be charged with murder. That’s why he’s determined to find Thomas.”

Ezekiel removed the bloody cloth from his head and replaced it with a clean one. “I still don’ understand.”

Wyatt pressed the brim of his hat back and forth through his fingers. “It’s a long story, but I’ll try to explain. You see, Clifton is an only child and his mother died years ago. His father was wealthy. He owned a large cotton plantation that mostly escaped the perils of the war. Sharecroppers who once were slaves continue working the plantation, and Thomas was one of those sharecroppers. It was Thomas who found old Mr. Mowry’s dead body—I’m talking about Clifton’s father—and delivered it to Clifton at the big house. Thomas said he found the body along the riverbank where he’d gone to fish. That was his first mistake.”

Ezekiel leaned back in his chair. “Hard to fault a man for doin’ a good thing, but I know you’s right. He shoulda jest left the body laying on the riverbank.”

“Clifton immediately went to the authorities and told them Thomas was the killer and that his father’s gold watch and money were missing. He said he’d seen Thomas with the watch. Of course, the authorities believed Clifton, and they brought out the dogs to help find Thomas. Someone must have told Thomas he had been accused, because he was already gone by the time the posse got to his place. After a few days I think everyone knew Thomas wasn’t the killer, but we didn’t want to call Clifton a liar. He’s one mean fella. Your life is much easier if you just go along with him.”

“I surely knows that fer a fact,” Ezekiel said, pulling the cloth from his forehead to see if the bleeding had stopped. “But how come you decided Thomas was innocent?”

Wyatt stared at the floor. “Old Mr. Mowry was tightfisted with his money, and Clifton always had to fight for every cent he got from the old man. He complained incessantly about his father’s miserly ways and was always saying he didn’t think the old man would ever die.”

“But that don’t ’splain what made you decide Thomas didn’ do it.”

Wyatt looked up and met Ezekiel’s eyes. “No, it doesn’t. From the beginning, I said Thomas could have just taken the watch when he found the old man dead along the riverbank, but nobody listened. After all, Thomas was colored and had been a slave on the plantation—Clifton told the sheriff Thomas was likely attempting to get back at his father for the years he’d lived in slavery.”

“Why didn’t Clifton jest let the law take care of matters? Why’s he out here chasing down someone so far from home?”

“Clifton and his father fought all the time over money, and I guess the old man thought his son might kill him. He put a clause in his will providing that if he died under strange circumstances, Clifton was not to inherit his estate unless someone else was convicted of the crime.”

“So that’s why he’s so determined.”

Wyatt nodded. “Clifton promised all of us a large amount of money to help him bring Thomas to justice. When we first started out, I truly believed Thomas might be guilty. Later, when I saw Clifton in possession of his father’s pocket watch, I confronted him. He said the watch was one he’d recently purchased—not the one that had belonged to his father. But I knew he was lying—it wasn’t a new watch. I think he knew I didn’t believe him, but I was afraid to argue any further. Guess the truth is, I wanted the money he was offering, too. My family lost everything in the war—we were burned out. I thought the money would be enough to begin a new life. Not a good reason, but the only one I’ve got.”

“How’d you ever think you could trust a man that would kill his own pappy?”

The Southerner shrugged. “Didn’t give it much thought. I figured he’d be afraid we’d turn on him.”

Ezekiel arched his eyebrows. “And you weren’t afraid he’d kill you, too?”

“Not too smart, I guess.”

“You’s right about that,” Ezekiel agreed. “One more question.”

“What’s that?”

“What took you so long to get here? You was seen down in Ellis over a month ago.”

Wyatt appeared startled by Ezekiel’s remark. “How’d you know that? Thomas is here, isn’t he?”

Ezekiel wagged his head back and forth. “No. He’s not, but I’m not gonna lie to you. He was here, and we expected you long ago. He never told me what dis was about, but I figured you gave up the search weeks ago.”

Wyatt nodded. “We met a young fellow at the livery. Clifton asked if he knew Thomas and told the fellow Thomas was wanted for murder. The boy said he didn’t believe Clifton. That Thomas wouldn’t kill anyone. Clifton threatened to pistol-whip the fellow if he didn’t tell us where Thomas was living. The boy relented and said Thomas told him he was heading for Colorado. We followed and made inquiry at every little town or way station along the route we figured he would have taken. Finally, after three weeks of looking, we turned back. We happened upon a farmstead outside of Ellis owned by Jeremiah Horton. He told us Thomas had worked for him and that he was living in Nicodemus. We tried to talk Clifton into going back home, but he’s like a man possessed. He won’t rest until he’s found Thomas. I figure he’ll come back to Nicodemus since Mr. Horton told him he knew for a fact that Thomas lived here.”

“You can search this place. Like I told you, Thomas lived here, but he’s gone and not expected to return.”

Ezekiel walked Wyatt Pell back to his horse and made sure his neighbors allowed the man to leave town safely.

When Wyatt’s form was just a tiny spot on the horizon, Lula Francis’s scream echoed from inside the Francis dugout.

Jarena appeared in the Francises’ doorway, looking harried and stunned. “He’s dead, Pappy. Charles is dead!”

CHAPTER
31

J
arena glanced at the soft gray clouds and hoped the showers would wait until the laundry dried.
Selfish girl,
she chided. After all, hadn’t her father and Thomas worked diligently with the breaking plow for this very purpose? Hadn’t they hoped and prayed to take advantage of the spring rains? Certainly rain for the fields was more important than a tub of laundry. With a flick of her wrists, Jarena snapped her father’s wet shirt and draped it over the rope. There was nothing to do but hang the clothes and trust God for the rest.

The lack of sunshine did little to improve Jarena’s spirits. Though she had begun adapting to life in their small community, she longed for the joyful chatter of her sisters, a good book to read, enough food to prepare for their meals, or a letter from Thomas—oh yes, a letter from Thomas would be most welcome. A twinge of guilt invaded her thoughts as one of the Beyer boys raced by her with his younger brother following on his heels. Instead of plump youthful faces, their prominent cheekbones reinforced their thin features. Shirts and pants hung on their emaciated frames. The boys reminded Jarena of a scarecrow her mother had dressed years ago and placed in their vegetable garden to fend off the birds. Yet these two were fortunate. Their youngest brother had died a few weeks back, and though some said it was the fever, most knew it was from lack of nutritious food. Effie and John had buried the boy near Charles and declared the area to be a cemetery—the Nicodemus cemetery.

The thought stirred a chill, and Jarena rubbed her hands together. She remained numb over Charles’s death, for though her romantic feelings for him had cooled, she missed his friendship and banter, and grieved deeply for his parents, who had now suffered the loss of two sons.

She pushed away thoughts of Charles and told herself she had little to complain about. Hadn’t Truth’s employment with the Boyles benefited their entire family? And though there was never enough to go around, her father had always shared with others. Of course, she couldn’t forget Dr. Boyle. He had certainly been a stalwart friend to their small group. She remembered fondly the many acts of kindness he’d performed during the past months. Amid the hardships there had been many blessings.

Even Grace’s love for the outdoors had become an invaluable asset. Nowadays she worked alongside their father in the fields like a seasoned hand, reveling in the pleasure of turning the soil.

Indeed there were small things for which to give thanks—and Jarena would dwell upon those.

Swiping damp hands down her apron, Jarena hurried off to the Francis dugout, keeping a watchful eye on the bowl of thin soup she carried. Although she doubted Mrs. Francis would partake of more than a few spoonfuls, Jarena continued to encourage the woman to eat—sometimes with success, sometimes not. The distant sound of whooping men and screaming women caused her to look away from the dish.

Wagons! A multitude of wagons—filled with people—were moving toward Nicodemus! Her heart quickened at the sight.

She rushed into the Francis dugout and shouted the news. “Another wagon train of folks is arriving. Come see!” In her excitement, she nearly dropped the bowl.

In the month since Charles’s death, Mrs. Francis had languished in pain. Now a flicker of light shone in her eyes.

“You sure, girl?” Mr. Francis asked as he reached for his hat.

Jarena leaned down and crooked an arm around his wife’s shoulders to help her up. “Oh, I’m sure, Mr. Francis. Come see for yourself.”

The column of wagons was drawing ever closer when the trio finally exited the dugout. Mrs. Francis leaned heavily on Jarena and her husband as they joined the other townsfolk gathering to welcome the new arrivals.

“Isn’t it wonderful? Appears they’ve come with supplies,” Jarena exclaimed. “I can even make out some cows following alongside them.”

Mrs. Francis pushed a strand of hair from her face. “I hope at least one of dem will wanna purchase some land.”

“So you’re still determined to leave?”

Richard Francis gave a resolute nod. “Only thing that’s been holdin’ us back is the lack of money to get home. Maybe this here’s the answer to our prayers, Lula.”

Jarena looked down at the grieving woman. “I don’t think your wife is strong enough to make the journey, Mr. Francis. She’s barely eaten since . . . since . . .”

“Since Charles was gunned down? You’s right on dat account. But I believe this is all she’ll need to regain her strength—ain’t it, Lula?”

A faint smile curved the older woman’s lips. “I’ll be strong enough to leave here. Don’ you doubt me for even a minute. The only regret I’ll have when I leave dis place is that I’ll be leavin’ Charles behind.”

“Ain’t nothin’ we can do ’bout that, Lula, but it looks like we’s gonna be able to go back home, and that there’s a blessing in itself.”

Jarena stayed beside Mrs. Francis while her husband and the others rushed to greet the newcomers. Children had hurried off to spread the word to those working their fields, and some of them were now gathering in town to see the new arrivals.

“I ain’t taking nothing back to Kentucky ceptin’ the clothes I need for traveling,” Mrs. Francis said. “Don’t want no memories of this place going back to Kentucky with us, so iffen you want any of our goods, you can have ’em.”

Jarena’s eyes were filled with warmth, and she patted the older woman’s hand. “We don’t have any money to purchase them, Mrs. Francis. But thank you kindly for the offer. Besides, we don’t know for certain that anyone’s going to have money to buy your land.”

Before Mrs. Francis could rebut Jarena’s words, Mr. Francis came hurrying back, flailing his arms above his head. “The Lemmonses from back home is in this group! George Lemmons says he’ll buy our place! We got money enough to leave, Lula.”

Her husband’s announcement brought a deeper smile to Mrs. Francis’s lips. “Looks like you’re wrong, Jarena. Richard has done gone and found us a buyer already. Why don’t you come inside and see what ya’d like to have. Ain’t askin’ for no money. Charles would want me to treat you kindly. I know you doubted his love for you, and truth be told, so did I—thought he and Belle Harris was better suited.”

Mrs. Francis’s words nearly mimicked what Charles had said before Jarena had gone off to Ellis. What was it?
“I’m beginning to think I
should have been keeping company with Belle Harris.”
If only he
had
begun courting Belle Harris! He’d likely still be alive!

Mrs. Francis settled into a rickety chair with a faraway look in her eyes. “I know it wasn’t you that lured him out to this desolate place, Jarena. He told me he would have come even if you wasn’t here. I’m telling you all this so you won’t go on blamin’ yo’self. I know it ain’t your fault, gal. My boy is dead and ain’t nothing gonna bring him back, but ain’t right for you to spend the rest of your life thinkin’ you was the cause. It’s God’s timing, not ours.”

“That’s what Miss Hattie said, too.”

The woman wiped a tear from her cheek and grasped Jarena’s hand. “You wanna come back to Georgetown with us? We’ll have enough money to buy you a train ticket, and you could pay us back once you found work.”

Last fall Jarena would have seized the opportunity, but now she amazed even herself as she declined the invitation. “Thank you, Mrs. Francis, but I couldn’t leave. Not now—probably not ever. Our home isn’t in Georgetown anymore—it’s out here on these plains.”

“If you ever change your mind . . .”

Jarena leaned down and placed a kiss on the woman’s tear-stained cheek. “Thank you, Mrs. Francis.”

Charles’s mother nodded and brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead. “Now get busy and pack up dese things. The faster you tote ’em out of here, the sooner we kin be on our way.”