Up Trail!

AuthorHouse

Chapter One

The Decision

John's eyes were open; wide open! He had actually felt them fly open like a runaway window shade. He lay there attempting to focus on something familiar in the dark that surrounded him, because this dark suddenly scared the hell out of him! His body was beaded with sweat and whatever he was laying on was damp with what he had already been shed. He mind was racing to sort it all out; was this real ... had he been awake or just reliving this nightmare? Whichever, he was truly scared by what he had 'seen'; as he had been every time he had been forced to 'live' it. Had he screamed out, was that what had wakened him, if so, what about the others in the house ... had they heard him? It was all so clear, so detailed, but then it should be ... because at least once it had been real!

It was now night on April 7, 1862; the battle of Pittsburg Landing was just over. The Union must have won, if you could call it that, at least the Confederates had withdrawn into the late afternoon sun of Middle Tennessee. He had just come to in the dark, curled up next to Chester's headless body. He and Chester, what was that boy's last name anyway, had exhausted all of their powder and were moving back from their position when that Reb. Cavalry rider had charged his horse into them. When John looked over his shoulder, all he could see was the glint of the sun flashing on the wildly swinging saber and the broad chest of that gray horse nearly on top of them, riding them to the ground. The rider had been right handed so it was Chester's head that rolled away as his body had tried to keep running; John was ridden to the ground as the big gray stumbled over the fallen body. Had that rider been left handed, well John wouldn't be here trying to sort out these nightmares.

He sat up, legs over the side of the narrow bed and rubbed his eyes to make the images fade away ... for now. He had sent a letter asking Sarah to marry him, how would she ever handle something like this ... how would he ever even explain it to her without scaring her away? Well he hadn't had an answer to his letter of four months ago; maybe she would just turn him down, likely be better for all of 'em.

* * *

"Alli Viene el Cartero! Alli Viene el Cartero! Miss Lucinda, the Post Rider, he comes!"

"Howdy Ma'am. I have here a letter for Mr. John Kelley, he still be a guest of y'all?"

"Yes. Yes he is. Thank you. May I offer you a drink of cool, spring water before you travel on?"

My Dearest John, March 5, 1863 Ouachita County, Arkansas

It gave me such pleasure for the Post Rider to come to my door-yard with yours of January 7. The letter made the trip from Texas in but seven weeks and you will note that I have stopped to write immediately as the Post Rider promises to return and stop by in two days hence. Matt, since you were here he will no longer answer to Matthew, and I are relieved at the safe arrival and rapid recovery of you and Glenn. Thank you for your kind words regarding my care, but I believe it was your determination to fulfill your pledge to see Glenn home that caused you both to recover.

Before you and Glenn had topped the first rise to the west, the emptiness of your leaving had already settled into my life. Matt and I watched for some time in the hope you would return and ask us just once more to go with you. Yet I knew you well enough to know you would not. You had said your piece once and I knew you would not ask again. Had you, my answer would have been very different that second time. My Aunt who raised me in Little Rock had always told me she believed for every woman, God would provide one good man. During my life with John Henry, I was certain she had lied to me. Then you rode up my lane with Glenn in tow, both of you more dead than alive, and with you, the hope of her words slowly began to return to me. I watched helplessly as you put your life at risk to protect me from the renegades, and later saw you react when Mr. Simcox put his hands on me. I knew then that my Aunt had spoken the truth, for no man had ever stepped forward to protect me before. Your letter said your Mother called this Devine Intervention. I never thought of it that way before, but that is truly what it is; part of God's plan for our lives. And, I stood quietly by the gate, tears in my eyes, and watched as His plan for me rode off to the west.

I find I am much less able to maintain and protect the farm than I thought to be. I am afraid much of your hard work is no longer in evidence. The roads have been full of retreating and deserting Confederate soldiers. They are such a sorry lot; poorly clothed, poorly equipped and so poorly fed. At first I felt such concern for their plight and tried to help, but quickly became overwhelmed by their number. They broke into the barn for shelter and used the siding to start fires for warmth. At some point they stole one of the renegades' horses and our milk cow from my pasture. During a lull in the traffic, Matt and I moved the other three horses and your two calves into the back pasture where they can not be seen from the road, but I do not know how long they may be safe. I fear as I write this there may now be two men camping in the barn. Matt, Duke and I stay safely barricaded in the house during the day with the scattergun; I am certain you remember your introduction to my scattergun! Then we take care of our water, food and other needs at night.

John, if you have not figured it out by now, my answer to your wonderful proposal is most definitely YES! And, thank you for wanting us in your life. In the interest of time, I would come to you. But given the current conditions, I would be fearful for our safety on these roads. So I hope you will want us enough to come for us as we are oh so ready to be with you.

It is with great love and anticipation that we wait.

Yours Forever ... Sarah

* * *

It was unusually cool in the west Texas Hill Country for an evening in early April in this year of our Lord 1863. It had been a wet spring and the grass on the prairies was already almost belly-tall to a Longhorn ... had there been any Longhorns nearby to measure it on. Oh there were a few still held by the corral ... Mr. McCord says in Texas you couldn't call yourself a rancher if'n you ain't got no cattle. But, with all of the men of Texas off fighting Indians or Federals, the cattle had all gone wild and run off the ranches to hide in the brakes and the draws and just propagate. For the most part, it wasn't even worthwhile going after them ... there was no gold to be had for their sale and with the inflation of the confederate money; it became more nearly worthless each day. No one would ever trade anything of value for a cow, if they needed one for food they would just go off and fetch one out of the canyons.

The bluebonnets were spectacular, and because the warm, wet weather had come early and stayed late, everyone said it was the most beautiful spring they could remember ... but people said something like that every year. The meadows and the wagon roads were alive with color. Even the normally grassy strip in the center of the wagon tracks were solid blue. John had wished his mother could see this picture as she loved flowers so. He would have welcomed the chance to show them to Sarah also. Sarah was just very much back in the front of his mind again, and now that her letter had finally arrived, he was both relieved and comforted to read just how she felt.

Angus McCord and John had sat for some time across from each other with the welcome warmth of the fire in the sunken pit in-between. Neither had spoken for some while. Angus looked over the top of his whiskey glass, the fire dancing in the remaining amber liquid his glass held. He thought John had been dozing, and then as he took a sip, the tip of John's cigar began to glow a brighter red. Angus kicked the remnants of a log back onto the fire with the toe of his boot. As the flames leaped and the glowing sparks were swept up into the black night sky, he used the fire light to study the face of this ex-union Corporal slumped across from him. Never in all of his life had Angus felt such a debt to another human being. This enemy soldier had brought his severely wounded, his only son, home from the Shiloh Church battlefield in Tennessee. He knew if this Yankee soldier had followed his training and the instincts honed during 13 months of bitter war, he would have killed Glenn as his enemy; or at least left him to die of his wounds as he saw to his own needs. Thank you God that he did neither!

This young man he now saw over the fire was still a boy really ... just a tall, gangly, not-yet-done-growing-up boy; just over six feet but still too thin for his frame. But the things he'd seen, the things he's been called upon to do, had rushed him to manhood long before his time; things that would likely haunt him in the years to come. It was the hard look around the eyes that gave away the fact that his youth had been too-early and too-harshly taken from him. Those eyes were always moving, looking for danger ... seeing around him what many others would miss. That instinct had kept him alive, and had kept his son Glenn alive during those long months they spent on the trail between the two warring armies. It seemed strange to think of his son as a "Glenn" when he had always been called, "Andrew". But he came home from the war called by his middle name and since it had always been the favorite with his mother, the name would stick. Angus thought of his own war experiences with General Sam Houston during the fight for Texas Independence. It was damn scary to him then, but it was next to nothing compared to the slaughter these young men had been a part of in but a few short months; why the Austin paper has said there were over twenty-four thousand casualties in just two days at Shiloh Church. Angus remembered when General Sam had come to their campfire one evening and a soldier ask him, "General, just how far are we gonna run backwards before we stand and fight the Mex.?"

Old Sam had studied their eager, young faces for a moment and said, "Just until Santa Anna gets tired of chasing us and has to stop to rest. Then we'll turn and kill him!"

"But we're out numbered five to one, what makes you think we can kill him?"

"We'll get'er done' cause we're fighting for our homeland and because we believe we can do it!" And so they had!

John stretched and his cigar glowed again, so Angus offered, "I seen the Post Rider come calling by yesterday. That's twice since you arrived he's stopped by; believe his last visit afore you came was maybe years before that."

"I got an answer to one of those letters I wrote when I first got here. You'll recall that one to my folks you said I had to write, or move on? Well I haven't heard from that one yet, but then it had to cross through two armies. But when we find some time, I'll be talking to you about the message in the one that did come."

Somewhere back in one of the wings of the rambling, single story adobe house a baby cried out. Angus smiled at the pleasant sound, had been a very long time since such a pleasant sound came from within the house of Angus and Lucinda McCord. They had thought to never hear such coming from their house again ... what with their son in the war and a daughter too independent for any man to corral. That would be three month old Master Michael Glenn Wagner announcing it was time for him to be fed. He had been born within a very few hours after John had driven Mrs. Lewis Wagner's team and wagon into the McCord's dooryard back in December. John said he was more scared about that baby comin' early on the trail than he ever had been in battle with the Confederates! Mrs. Wagner, Savannah, was a true Mississippi Belle, the daughter of Alexander Clayton, a Vicksburg delegate to the Secessionist Convention in Montgomery. Her daddy had the vision to see the eventual value of Vicksburg to the Union and the battle that would follow for control of the Mississippi River. He wanted her out of the city before it erupted. The real wonder was that she could convince John and Glenn that if they would help her and her newly freed slave, the four of them could get her Union Naval Captain husband out of the largest Confederate prisoner-of-war compound west of the Mississippi. These two boys saw those flashing eyes, the beautiful smile, and likely the tight bodice and said, "Sure, we can do that!" Angus wondered how many fool adventures had been started on less ... likely a few wars, as well. Well, they got him out only for him to die in her arms a few days later ... but maybe that's not such a bad way to go; to die in the arms of a beautiful woman who loves you. Then in a bit of the war's irony that Yankee Captain was buried in the family cemetery plot on the home site of Mr. John H. Reagan, the former Congressman from Texas and currently the Postmaster General of the Confederate States of America. Havin' a Yankee in among 'em was likely disturbing the eternal rest of Mr. Reagan's kinfolk.

Glenn McCord came through the arch still limping slightly, moving toward the two men and the warmth of the fire. Angus noted his son was wearing that same moon struck look on his face that he'd worn for months, almost since the moment Mrs. Wagner had arrived. Damn, but I think that boy's in love. Glenn hooked a chair with the toe of his boot and pulled it up to the fire ring. His Pa looked over and inquired, "How's it happen you're not in with Mrs. Wagner and your god-child? That's where we usually find you".

"Michael Glenn's gotta' eat, so Ma and Suzanne bid me to get out."

"So, you figure what ... that's somethin' those three women can't do proper without your supervision?"

"If you two would quit jawing each other and give me a chance, I'd like to talk a little about the letter from Sarah that came this morning and what I'm aimin' do about it."

At which point Glenn piped-up, "The Post Rider come today? I didn't seem 'em."

"Son of mine, you ain't been out of that room long enough lately to even see sunshine! Since John's helped you acquire a taste for it, want a little sour mash with us?" Glenn and John both nodded in unison and Angus reached and filled glasses for them and of course his own. Angus kind of thought they might all could use a taste while John unraveled his news.

John took a taste of the liquid, puffed his cigar back to life, exhaled and started in. "I'm fixin' to go back to Arkansas! In her letter, Sarah allowed as how she may have made a mistake by them not leaving with us before, and she's just having lots of problems keeping the farm going. I thought it might be best if I went and took a look for myself."

"Boy, you plannin' on staying there or what have you got in mind?"

"I knew the minute I rode down her lane and turned that gray mare's head west to bring Glenn home, that I loved her and wanted to ask her to marry with me. So I aim to go do that proper. I think she's ready to throw in with me now and so, I'd like to get the two of em' and bring em' back to Texas so's we can be startin' a cattle ranch of our own someplace around here."

Glenn stood up and looked at John, "I'll be goin' with you!"

"I figured you to say that and, Glenn I do appreciate it, but it's my belief I should take Joshua along. If we're gonna try this wild-cow hunt when I return, the one Miss Lucinda keeps calling 'Angus' fool errand', you need to continue to rest up and recover. Besides, like the rest of us, Joshua ain't doing nothin' to earn his keep 'cept practice with that Colt all day. And, I know your folks, and especially Mrs. Wagner, would like it better if'n you were here. Anyway, that's the way I figure."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Up Trail!by Dann Wallis Copyright © 2010 by Dann Wallis. Excerpted by permission.
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