Come Juneteenth (14 page)

"The girl is a handful. I don't know what to do with her," Cochran said.

It hit us both like grapeshot. But Gabe never missed a beat.

"I can handle her," he returned quietly. "My brother and I practically raised her, what with my father being sick and my mother running the ranch."

Cochran was somewhat mollified. Then, "I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to wear that uniform."

Silence from all of us. Cochran looked embarrassed for a minute, Gabe indignant, but he kept his demeanor. "Nothing else fits me," he said.

"Well then, wear it, but you have to remove the captain's insignia on the shoulders."

Gabe promised he would. And then he asked for the rifles.

"Before I allow you to go on this expedition, or give you the required rifles, you'll have to take the oath of allegiance to the United States."

I heard Gabe clear his throat, then say he would. I wasn't surprised. No doubt when he'd visited Pa he'd been told about how Pa had taken the oath. Pa would, I know, have left it up to Gabe, but I also knew that given Pa's example, Gabe would do it.

I stood beside Gabe. Quietly and without faltering, he took it. Then the two of them shook hands.

Cochran looked at me. "I'm remanding you to your brother's recognizance," he said. "He's promised you'll behave. Any more monkeyshines like you pulled before and there will be no leniency. I'll prosecute you to the full extent of my authority. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." I called him "sir" because Gabe had. And because I sensed he liked it. And because I was Southern.

That afternoon we made all the arrangements for our trip, right down to the piece of dried buffalo meat we each carried tied to our saddles.

M
ERCY
L
OVE
said that the quarter moon last night was dripping blood. And this was a bad omen.

Her owl still hadn't hooted. He just stared at you with that owl's accusing stare, his eyes finding you guilty for things you hadn't even done yet.

I paid Mercy Love a visit as part of getting ready for my trip. She gave me an anklet made of silver coins to wear as protection against picking up evil. She made it herself, and to make it more powerful, had soaked the coins for thirty minutes in the entrails of a living frog.

She offered up in a smoking fire an ounce of gunpowder mixed with whiskey to calm Gabe's heart and give him power. Then she brewed me some tea made of dogwood roots, and I left feeling a lot better about things. Gabe didn't visit her. He was of the usual male persuasion, which was to doubt her seriously. Yet he respected the things she did for him and always sent his thanks.

The next visit I made was to Pa.

He was lying back on his pillows, looking wan. Mama had told him about Colonel Heffernan taking Sis Goose,
and we were afraid it was the final blow for him. He didn't look as if he would last the day. But with Gabe by my side, I soothed him.

"Bring her back," he told us.

Gabe promised him he would. And every time Gabe discussed Sis Goose, I felt ashamed and embarrassed. For he didn't know about the baby. And I couldn't tell him.

I kissed Pa and he held me as close as he could. His body seemed frail. Tears were coming down my face as I turned back to Gabe, who gestured I should leave the room. He had business with Pa before we left.

Before we left meant there might not be a pa when we came back. For Gabe had some legal-looking papers in his hand that Pa had given him.

"Power of attorney," he called it later. It meant he was authorized, in all things legal, to act in Pa's name. To recall the money from England, which he did by letter that same day. He was in charge of the ranch. Gabe's word, not Cochran's, was final and legal. And he was in charge of me.

Granville had all his interests in Mexico, though he would occasionally come home.

Gabe and Pa were in Pa's bedroom quite a while. When he came out, Gabe looked white in the face, older, solemn. And then he went to consult with Mama in the parlor.

I packed my things. I went into the kitchen of the big house, with Cochran's permission, to secure some food for us from Old Pepper Apron.

I had always been, like everyone else on the place, a little afraid of Old Pepper Apron. When I was a child of about six, and Sis Goose was nine, we'd bother her for sweets in the kitchen.

All we had to do was walk in for her to scold us. "What you want in my kitchen, you two little spawns of the devil? After my cookies again?"

She had jars of cookies: sugar, spice, peppermint, even chocolate. And she always had dishes of peppermint and taffy candy. No fancy candied violets for her. She stuck to the real thing.

"Well, hurry up, I haven't got all day. I'm making this roast for your pa." She'd watch over us closely and allow us to select a few choice cookies or candies, then usher us out. I didn't want to leave. Her pots on the hearth and on the old woodstove were bubbling with good-smelling things to eat. I wanted to stay and learn to make things like she did. So did Sis Goose.

She was kinder to Sis Goose than to me. Which was why she was so kind to me this day, having heard we were going to fetch her home.

"You bring that girl home to me and I'll never scold her again. Allow her to have all the sugar cookies she wants," she said.

And with all the other food she gave us there was a special package of sugar cookies just for Sis Goose.

The other food was traveling food. Gabe had given
me a list. Since we were taking not only food but a tarpaulin, in case of hail, and pine knots for light at night, and blankets, a fry pan and coffee pot, and bags of corn in case we had to trade with Indians, we were taking along a pack mule.

The food Old Pepper Apron gave me complied with Gabe's list. She liked and respected Gabe.

Berries, salt pork, sweet potatoes, coffee, sugar, biscuits, bread, bacon, onions, dried beef jerky, and even some eggs, "'Cause I know how much he likes his eggs," Old Pepper Apron said. She wrapped them in cotton. She even sent along some hard candy. Gabe had his usual flint and steel to start fires.

"Are we going to be gone that long?" I asked Gabe.

He chose not to answer.

I
HAD OTHER
questions for him as we started out, south by southwest, according to Gabe's charts.

"Did Pa put you in charge of everything?"

"Yes."

"Do you think Granville will be put out?"

"Hardly. Likely he'll be relieved."

"Does that mean you're not going to fight Indians anymore?"

"Don't ask so many questions."

We rode in silence. I gave him that, since he seemed to have a lot on his mind. I noticed he'd paid a visit to
Captain Cochran before he left, likely to tell him he, not Ma, would be dealing with him on matters of the ranch from here on in.

Then he asked me a question. "Are you afraid?"

"Am I supposed to be?"

"Don't sass me, Luli."

He was in charge, all right.

W
E FORDED
several springs that first afternoon and saw many stray cows roaming the prairie that to go on forever. Gabe said we were on what was called a thicket prairie, named for its clumps of dwarf dogwood and plums, all tangled together, and its wild grape full of snakes.

"Ma would like those plums for jelly," I told him.

"Well, we're not stopping and saying please to those snakes," he shot back. "Look up ahead at the flowers."

I gasped. The ground up ahead was filled with blue salvia and it went on and on until the coreopsis took over, then the verbenas, which gave way to the larkspur, the standing cypress, and then as far as I could see the French pinks.

"Oh, I wish Ma could see!" I breathed.

Next came the post oak and cottonwood trees, and then the water hole where we stopped so our horses could drink, after which Gabe found the trail he was looking for that would lead us to Cummin's Station, a trading post where he said we could stop tomorrow to ask questions.

We were a goodly amount of miles from civilization when we halted that first night as the sun set. I was in charge of roasting the sweet potatoes. Gabe said we should eat the smoked chicken. And we had berries and fresh coffee for dessert.

Sunset always makes me sad and seizes me with loneliness. And though I was in the company of Gabe, probably my most favorite and dependable person in the world, I felt homesick and missed Ma and Pa. I wanted to be in our kitchen at home where the good smells were. I was silent, eating. Gabe glanced across the fire at me.

"You ailing?"

"No." Was he asking because he cared? Or because it was his job now? Why did I have to torment myself? Couldn't I take things at face value?

"Sorry you came?"

"I miss Ma and Pa."

" Course you do. But think of it this way. You're doing this for them. Bringing back Sis Goose."

I nodded and smiled. "Thank you," I said. "I forgot that."

He eyed me. "You're a good kid. The way you always think of Ma, like back there with the plums and the flowers. I was a bit scared at first that you were going to give me a run for my money, but now I'm glad Pa put me in charge."

This took me by surprise and embarrassed me. "Can I have some coffee?"

"Ma let you have coffee this late at night?"

"Yes."

He nodded yes and poured it for me, and somehow when I tasted it I felt closer to Ma and her kitchen, and the enormous open sky over me didn't seem so overwhelming.

This then was our first night out and where I began my story.

A
S
I
SAT
ruminating about matters that had brought us here and listening to the even breathing of Gabe coming across the fire, I heard a twig snap. A small animal scurried outside the rim of firelight and the branches of a nearby oak tree groaned as if under the weight of some slinky animal that got slinkier and bigger as the moments went on.

I heard the troubled
who-whooo
of a great horned owl. Then the cackling laugh of a little screech owl. It all reminded me of Sasquach, Mercy Love's owl, and with my boots off I was able to finger the ankle bracelet she had made me out of coins.

"What the devil is that thing?" Gabe asked.

"Mercy Love made it for me. To ward off evil. You'll never guess what she soaked the coins in."

"I don't think I want to."

"Well, she burned a small fire of gunpowder and whiskey for you to be calm and to have power."

He yawned. "See anything tonight?"

"No, but there's some kind of animal up there in that big tree. I hear the branches groaning from its weight."

"You calculate what kind it is?"

"A wild bobcat."

"Most likely a Mexican cougar."

"We're not in Mexico."

"You tell him that."

"Oh, Gabe, what'll we do?"

He laughed. "There's nothing up there, Luli, but a good piece of your imagination."

"Gabe, I'm scared."

He grinned. "Good. I wouldn't want anybody with me who didn't know enough to be scared. Keeps you alert."

"Are you scared?"

"I'm always scared, Luli. Out on the trail, searching for Kickapoos, but mostly inside, having polite conversation with polite folks."

I stared at him. "Even in our house?"

"Most especially in our house, yes."

"But why? Pa's made you boss now. Everybody has to listen to you."

"For just that reason, I'm scared. Think about it. I'm responsible for the ranch, though Cochran runs it. Pa is dying. Ma looks as if she is. We've got to turn a profit every year or go under. I've got this business with Heffernan, and then there's you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Think I'm going to build those stocks Cochran was talking about and keep them for when you have bad days."

He smiled. I didn't. I felt tears in my eyes and stared hard, straight ahead.

"Hey, c'mon," he said. "What's wrong, eh? You're different from before I left for the war."

"I was just trying to find out what you're afraid of," I snapped.

"The things that scare me can't be seen or heard, Luli," he said sadly. "And I'm not ashamed to admit it. But now, why don't you go to sleep. It'll be dawn in about six or seven hours."

I had been waiting for him to mention Sis Goose in the conversation. He never did.

I slept. He didn't tell me until the next morning that what had been up in the tree were buzzards. Waiting.

"For what?" I asked.

"What do they wait for?"

I didn't say it but I knew. For people to die.

T
HE NEXT
day the trail he had found ended. And after an early breakfast and an early start we traveled over ground covered with mesquite, prickly pear, and then some buffalo grass. The prairie was endless, and when I looked at the flat line between earth and sky it seemed to go on forever. And then, there in the distance, loomed a high mountain region studded with peaks of lime shell and chalky rocks. The scenery was breathtaking, and Gabe smiled seeing me mesmerized by it.

"See that tall tree over there? The swallow-tailed
hawks build their nests on the tallest branch that will bear the weight. The eggs are the best you'll ever eat. We'll stop a short distance away and, while you keep watch, I'll climb up and try to get some eggs."

I watched, rifle at the ready, while he climbed the tree and came down carefully, cradling two large eggs. "We'll eat them for supper with some salt pork," he promised.

I put them away in the cotton with the few we had left over from home.

We didn't halt for lunch but ate some dried buffalo meat we had tied to our saddles. We made a brief stop so the horses and mule could water.

And for us, we paused only once so we could modestly relieve ourselves within a distance of each other. Then we went on.

W
E HAD BEEN
riding quite a while and needed a rest, so when we came across a large plum patch and saw the delicious fruit on the bushes, Gabe suggested we stop and refresh ourselves with a treat.

I was just biting into the soft and sweet, yet tart, fruit when Gabe pushed his foot around on the ground. "Someone's been here before us," he said.