Touching the Sky (4 page)

Seeing that most of the women were engaged with their refreshments, Laura rose. “If you’ll please excuse me.” She offered no other explanation for her departure and simply walked from the room.

Making her way outside, she prayed there might be a refreshing breeze and was rewarded with a wisp of wind. She dabbed her neck with a handkerchief and prayed for the temperatures to cool. Walking the length of the yard, Laura spied her sister and Malcolm Lowe standing near the carriage house. When her sister threw her arms around Malcolm and allowed him to embrace and kiss her, Laura very nearly called out in protest. Instead, she fell back and waited to see what might happen next.

When the kiss seemed to go on for an unseemly amount of time, Laura made her way to the couple. “Excuse me, but such a display is hardly proper.”

Carissa pulled away and laughed. “Of course it’s proper. Malcolm just proposed and I have accepted. We are to be married.”

Laura forced a smile as she gazed at her soon-to-be brother-in-law. “I congratulate you both; however, you are not yet married. Mother would have a fit of apoplexy if she were to see you.”

“Mother will be delighted for me. You should be, too.” Carissa smiled like the cat who’d found a bowl of cream. “You shall be my maid of honor, and we shall both have new gowns. Won’t that be wonderful?”

“Yes. Well, be that as it may,” Laura said, trying her best to refrain from rebuking, “it might serve you better to go and make your announcement. Mother would probably be pleased to have such a thing declared in the company of her dear friends.”

“Oh, let’s,” Carissa said, pulling on Malcolm’s arm. “We haven’t spoken to Papa, but I’m certain he will approve.”

The twenty-nine-year-old former Confederate lieutenant shook his head. “You go on ahead. I have to be back to my duties. I am hopeful about a position with the flour mill. I see them this afternoon.”

“Oh, if you must,” Carissa said, looking sad.

Laura took hold of her sister’s arm. “We mustn’t delay him. Jobs are important, now more than ever. If you are to be a well-kept bride, Malcolm must be able to provide. Good day to you, Malcolm.”

Malcolm walked in the opposite direction and made his way to the street. He picked up his step as the road descended from the bluff. His mount was being shod; while being afoot was not his desire, the smithy had no other horses to lend out.

He thought of what he’d just done and smiled. Proposing to Carissa Marquardt would serve his purpose well. In fact, it would serve many purposes. He was anxious to settle down and at least put on the pretense of being a decent citizen. He wouldn’t—and couldn’t—sign the ironclad oath, but by uniting himself to the Union-supporting Marquardt family, he would be allowed in a ring of society that he might never have known. He figured the citizens would be more forgiving, as well. Attaching his name to that of the Marquardts was nearly as good as having worn blue in the war.

“And with any luck at all, their wealth will serve my higher goal,” he said to himself.

Skirting the busier streets, Malcolm approached a shellcrete blockhouse, pleased to see that the door was open, awaiting his arrival. He stepped inside and pulled off his hat. He drew out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his neck and forehead before proceeding into the front room, where seven men were gathered.

“Gentlemen,” he said with a slight nod. “I’m glad you could make it today.”

One of the men, someone Malcolm knew only through his former sergeant, rose. “I have to be leaving soon, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to get right to it.”

“I think that is wise,” Malcolm agreed. “We don’t want to attract attention to ourselves. We very much appreciate your willingness to aid us in our endeavors against the Union.”

“It is my great pleasure,” the man said. “I believe my newspaper will be more than happy to publish no end of stories that defame the Union and their thieving men who masquerade as honorable soldiers. Now tell me what you’d like us to do.”

Malcolm smiled. “If you will take your seat, I will expand on our ideas.”

“See? Didn’t I tell you wonderful news was coming soon?” Agatha Marquardt declared at her daughter’s announcement.

Laura remained at the door of the room, not wanting to become trapped among the women once again.

“I’m so happy I just might start to cry,” Carissa said, hugging their mother.

“Oh, my dear, we are so happy for you,” Mrs. Brighton began. “But your mother tells us that your young man was a soldier for the Confederacy. Has he repented of that action?”

Carissa nodded in firm assurance. “Oh, he is so very sorry for the past. He only joined up because his papa, God rest his soul, had pleaded with him to do so. He couldn’t very well deny the man his dying wish.”

“Of course not,” Mrs. Tennyson interjected. “There were many such cases, I’ve heard Mr. Tennyson say. Bless those poor boys who went to war with nothing more than a heart to honor their fathers and mothers.” She shook her head and gave a
tsk
ing sound.

“Who are his people, dear?” another of the ladies asked.

Carissa looked quite sorrowful. “Oh, it’s a tragic tale. He was an only child. His sweet mother nearly died giving him life. They were originally from South Carolina, but moved to Texas when Malcolm was very young. Unfortunately, his mother died shortly thereafter, and his father raised him all alone. Then just as the war was starting, his beloved father died and left him alone in the world. He has no other kin.”

“Tragic indeed!” Mrs. Tennyson replied and the others nodded in unison.

Laura knew there was no way to prove or disprove this story, but she wondered about its truthfulness nevertheless. Malcolm always seemed far too secretive to suit her. Carissa was, in many ways, still a child. She would turn nineteen come November, but Laura wasn’t sure maturity would follow. After all, it hadn’t exactly embraced Carissa the first eighteen years. It was this immaturity that left Laura to fret for her sister. In many ways she was naïve and far too trusting. When things went bad for her, Carissa always found someone else to blame.

With a sigh, Laura shook her head. She longed to talk some sense into her sister’s head, but Carissa thought Laura was jealous of her relationship with Malcolm. And perhaps she was right. As the eldest, Laura did find it rather offending that her sister should marry first. After all, Laura had always been quite popular with the young men in Corpus Christi. She had attended many a party where men spoke of love to her. Then the war had taken them away—never to return.

So many of the boys were gone now. And those who had survived . . . well . . . they had changed. They weren’t the carefree young men who had marched off to fight the Yankees so long ago. Worse still, they weren’t yet forgiving of those families who hadn’t supported the cause. Families like the Marquardts.

Laura stepped into the hallway, her gaze still fixed on the scene in the parlor. She felt as if she were watching a tragedy—perhaps one of Shakespeare’s tales of corruption, deception, and woe. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a mistake. Worse still, she knew that if she voiced her concerns . . . no one would care.

J
une passed into July, the warmth and humidity rivaling the tropics. Brandon was glad that he would soon be rid of the responsibility to wear a uniform. The layers of clothing required by the army made the heat nearly impossible to endure.

“So you’ll soon be a free man,” Major Justin Armstrong declared, looking over the report Brandon had just placed on his desk.

“Very soon,” Brandon replied. “I was just thinking how I won’t be sorry to shed this uniform and return to Indiana.”

“So you’ve decided to go back home?”

Brandon cocked his head to one side and pretended to contemplate the question. “Well . . . in truth, I haven’t completely decided what I’m doing.” His thoughts rested on the image of Laura Marquardt that had haunted his dreams of late. “I have to say that my time in the army has given me a new perspective on life in general. As you know, I greatly enjoy working with horses, and my father’s horse breeding farm has produced some of the best Thoroughbreds around. And I did attend college with a mind to perhaps teach.”

“You could teach or raise horses here in Texas,” Justin countered. “This is a vast state with a great deal of cheap land. In the years to come the railroad will connect across this state and property values will increase dramatically. Why not at least invest in some land here to sell for a profit later?”

“It’s a thought, I suppose. But I’m not fond of this heat. We knew warm days in Indiana, but weeks of temperatures hovering near a hundred degrees were not the norm for us. Down here folks just seem to take it in stride. It’s given me a better understanding of why so many businesses practice the Mexican tradition of the
siesta
in the heat of the afternoon.”

“Not all of Texas is this hot. Up north there are some lush green spreads, and to the east there are wondrous forests. If you venture west you would find the air considerably drier—though I daresay the temperatures would most likely remain high in the summer months. Still, all in all, this is a great state for raising animals. I’ve been doing some study on it. Cattle thrive here, and horses would no doubt do just as well.”

“What about the Indian trouble? I hear up north the people are dealing with attacks from the Kiowa and Comanche. And out west it’s the Apache, as well.”

“Yes, but now that the army is returning to the western posts, the Indian wars will soon be a thing of the past. Those savage renegades will be moved onto reservations, where they can be watched and kept under control. I wouldn’t let fear of Indians keep me from investing in property here in Texas. In fact, I haven’t. I purchased a large parcel of land for my family and plan to bring them out sometime next year. If not sooner.”

“That’s quite a commitment,” Brandon said.

“Susannah is all for this. She believes the boys will benefit by getting away from the city. Our daughter might not like it, but she’s only two and can’t raise too much fuss over the move.” He grinned. “I would love having a neighbor like you close at hand. You really should think about it. I know there are some properties available near mine that are yet unspoken for.”

“I’ll think about it.” Brandon thought again of Laura Marquardt and decided to pose a question. “What do you know about Stanley Marquardt and his family?”

Justin leaned back and thought for a moment. “Strong Union supporter with a wife and two or three daughters.”

“Two,” Brandon said without thinking. Seeing Justin’s brow rise slightly, he shrugged. “I attended that party you were too busy for a couple weeks back.”

“Ah yes, I remember. Why do you ask?”

“No reason, really.” Brandon didn’t want to hear the comments when he explained that his real interest was Laura Marquardt and not her father. “I suppose I just wondered what sort of business Marquardt was in. I didn’t really have a chance to talk to him much.”

Justin nodded. “I don’t know what all he has on his plate, but I do know he has fought long and hard for a deeper channel in the harbor. I learned that much from the general. Apparently Marquardt has a hand in engineering the improvements, although I’m certain it wouldn’t be a single-handed effort.”

“No doubt it would require a lot of money and a great many hands to aid in the matter,” Brandon said. “But given all that I’ve heard, it would greatly help the commerce of the town.”

“Exactly.” The major looked as if he were about to say something more, but just then a man appeared at the door.

“Sir, beggin’ the major’s pardon, but this just came from General Russell.”

Justin motioned the sergeant to bring the missive forward. He took the letter and read the contents quickly. “It would seem a good thing that you’re here, Brandon. General Russell wants to hear your report and see both of us in his office immediately.” He cast the letter aside and got to his feet. “I suppose we’d better head right over.”

Brandon got to his feet while Justin began buttoning his double-breasted coat. He couldn’t help but wonder what Russell needed from them both. It would be the second time in a matter of weeks that Charles had requested his presence.

Taking up Brandon’s report, Justin grabbed his hat and motioned to the door. “Let’s not keep the man waiting.”

They walked in quick step to the Ironclad House and found the corporal busy instructing two privates.

“Attention!” the corporal commanded, and all three drew themselves into the expected rigid stance.

Brandon let Justin take the lead since he was the senior officer. In no time at all they were seated in front of an angry-looking Russell, wondering what could possibly have happened to cause such a scowling countenance.

“Thank you for your prompt response. We have need of your services, gentlemen. As I already mentioned to Captain Reid, an ongoing investigation has brought certain former Confederates to our attention and we need to devise a way to ferret these animals out of hiding.”

“Perhaps you could start at the beginning and explain what this investigation is about,” the major suggested.

Russell nodded. “This involves the murders of several Union soldiers last May. We know this savage attack was conducted by former Confederates. Yesterday two men from the Twenty-eighth were found dead in a ditch south of town. We fear additional attacks are to come, and we need to capture these men before they have a chance to kill again.”

“What do we have to go on?” Brandon asked.

“Not a great deal, but one name keeps coming up. Malcolm Lowe.”

It was the same man Brandon had been urged to befriend at the Marquardt party. He’d hoped to meet the man, but learned shortly after arriving that Lowe had been detained elsewhere. Now it seemed the man was once again causing problems.

“I can’t believe that you are pushing for this wedding to take place so soon,” Laura said, looking at her mother in disbelief. “They’ve only just become engaged.”

“Yes, but they are well suited,” her mother countered. “A wedding in September would do a great deal to lift everyone’s spirits.”

Carissa looked at Laura and shook her head. “You’re just jealous. You fear if I marry first, no one will step forward to ask for your hand. But honestly, Laura, this is the frontier. There are far more men than women. Papa has said so on many occasions, and prior to the war you knew that to be true. I’m sure that someone will marry you.”

Laura would have laughed at her sister’s comment had the subject not been so serious. “I am not jealous. I am concerned about your reputation and about your safety. You don’t know Malcolm all that well.”

“I know him well enough to know that I love him,” Carissa said, kneeling at their mother’s feet. She looked up at their mother with adoration. “Just like you knew you loved Papa when you agreed to marry him.”

Their mother nodded. “I knew my heart well.”

“As do I.” Carissa cast a sly glance up to where Laura watched the scene.

Laura took a seat beside Mother on the cream and green striped settee. “Mother, I merely suggest that September is too soon. Tongues will wag and questions of her innocence will be discussed. You surely don’t want people thinking Carissa needs to marry quickly.”

“Pshaw. I discussed this with members of the Ladies’ Church Society. They were all in agreement. A wedding and reception—even a dance—would do the whole community good.”

A look of smug satisfaction crossed Carissa’s face, but Laura wasn’t yet defeated. “So your thoughts on the matter are merely to promote a party atmosphere to raise spirits?”

Their mother looked rather surprised at the question. “Of course not. I simply see no reason to delay the union of two people who are obviously in love. Where is your sense of romance, Laura?”

“It probably fades with each passing year that she remains unmarried,” Carissa said in an almost, but not quite, sympathetic tone.

“This isn’t about my situation,” Laura countered.

“Exactly,” Carissa agreed. “This is about me. I think it is my duty to uplift those around me. The war is behind us, but not so the sorrows. My wedding will be like a declaration of hope and future joy. We will cast off the old and take up the new.”

“Oh yes!” Mother agreed. “It will be glorious. We will have a grand party right here. We will decorate the lawns and set up tables outdoors. We will invite everyone to attend and serve a wonderful wedding breakfast and later host a dance. It will be a grand celebration.”

Carissa clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, I am so happy. I shall speak immediately to Malcolm and set a date.” She got to her feet and smiled at Laura. “And you and I must arrange our gowns. Since few have money for new creations, we should have no trouble in hiring a seamstress.” She kissed their mother on the cheek, then glided from the room.

Laura looked at Mother and reached out to gently take hold of her hand. “Mother, you do realize that in a time when so many are struggling and suffering, we might be criticized for such an elaborate wedding.”

“Let them criticize,” she answered. “A woman only marries like this once. I would do the same for you . . . and will should you find a husband.” Mother pulled her hand away and fussed with the lace on the collar of Laura’s chemisette. “I don’t want you to spoil this for Carissa. She has suffered enough from the war. We will make it up to her by giving her a wedding fit for a princess. Even your father agrees. He has already sent word to his brother in Chicago.”

Laura knew that her uncle had safeguarded the family’s fortune through the war years, as well as provided regular stipends for support. Now that the war was over, it would only be a matter of time before all of their assets were returned to Texas.

“There, now the lace lies properly,” her mother said with a look of satisfaction.

“I hope you won’t regret this,” Laura said, standing. “I do only wish for the very best where Carissa is concerned.”

“As do we all.” Her mother pulled out her fan. “Goodness, but the heat is most unbearable. Do ask Esther to bring me a cool glass of lemonade.”

Laura nodded and headed for the arched doorway. She paused for a moment, wishing she could make her mother see reason. “It would perhaps make me feel better if Malcolm had already secured a job and was able to purchase a home for them.”

Her mother’s face lit up. “Oh, that’s part of the best news. Your father arranged a position for Malcolm, and as a wedding gift we are buying them a small, but sufficient, house.”

Laura felt as though she’d been slapped. She tried not to react, however. Nodding, she considered the statement for a moment. “I’m glad that Father feels he is able to do so much for them.”

“Malcolm will become the son your father always wanted,” Mother said, smiling and working the fan with great fervor. “You will soon see, Laura. This is a wonderful thing for our family.”

Brandon felt a sense of restlessness as another day concluded. He undressed and readied himself for bed, but all the while his mind was flooded with thoughts of what General Russell had told him.

Charles needed an insider—someone who could seek the proof they needed to identify those responsible for the rising violence. Some Southern supporters would kill in the name of the Confederacy for as long as they could get away with it. The Twenty-eighth Regiment was particularly vulnerable because they were black—and also because they wore blue.