Vow Unbroken (25 page)

“I'd like that better.”

“I'd like plenty of light to see to the new team. See how they do with your mules.”

“Aren't they doing great? Levi said you said they were good animals. Why would you think there might be problems? Why is it necessary to lose a whole hour or two of daylight by stopping so early? Especially when we're making such great time.”

He sighed. “It's your call, boss.”

She sensed irritation. “All right. Well, I'll think on it then.”

“If we reach that fork before we stop, Titus advised we keep to the west. It's a bit farther on to Daingerfield's Springs,
but the folks living the other way reported it being soggy after the storm. Think on that, too, and let me know. I should be in front by then.”

“I will. Thank you.” Well, at least he had given in on going on longer—if that's what she wanted to do. It clearly was not his preference. She let the wagon pull ahead, then slipped into the woods to take care of some pressing business. She wished she'd seen to it when in Pleasant Mound, but after the bad news about the moneymen leaving early, she hadn't been thinking too straight.

She looked toward the sky. “Oh, Lord, please don't let the buyers be gone.”

Ready to drive again by the time her hour of walking had ended, she caught back up with Henry. “Want me to relieve Levi and send him back here?”

He thought about it only a minute. “I think you can handle this team fine. They're good actors. I'll hop down and walk awhile if you want to come on up.”

She didn't remember until she sat next to her daughter in the second wagon that the man hadn't answered her question about how far that place was where he wanted to turn. And he had disappeared. “Becky, did you hear Mister Henry say anything about a fork?”

“No, ma'am, but Mister Titus did when we were leaving.” She hugged her doll. “Is my walking turn next? I think Blue Dog needs some exercise.”

Sue rolled her eyes. That dog surely was taking full advantage of his injuries. He'd been healing nicely, though, and she was thankful for that. “We'll see if there's enough light for you to have a turn this evening. Do you remember if Mister Titus mentioned how far the fork was?”

Becky nodded. “Yes, ma'am, he did. Said it was about eight miles.”

Eight miles, huh? That meant Henry thought they could be doing better than two and a half miles per hour if he believed they might reach the fork with daylight left. That was wonderful. She started calculating when they should arrive in Jefferson. Taking the longer west fork meant two full ten-hour days to get there on the third day. That sure would be cutting it close if the buyers left on Friday instead of Saturday.

Gratitude for the extra four mules washed over her again. Getting there in time with just her four would've been completely impossible. So, she had to decide. She had no doubt Henry would want to stop early and go the long, drier way. Maybe she should simply agree and do what he wanted. That would be the prudent way to go.

She really would rather have the comfort of pulling into Jefferson late Thursday night, but even going the shorter route, that would mean twelve-hour days. She sighed and looked down at Becky. A ten-hour day on those hard wooden seats wasn't easy for her, and certainly not for a nine-year-old.

Sue had to trust that God knew exactly when she needed to be there. She pondered it awhile longer, then made her decision. She settled on doing what would please Henry. A peace washed over her, and she knew with certainty she'd made the right choice. That led her to a confidence that the buyers would still be there until Saturday waiting on her.

She really hated being the last one to arrive though. The others would probably all get a better price.

“So, Becky.”

“Yes, ma'am?”

“When you said Mister Henry had gotten a surprise for me, too, were you talking about the four mules?”

“Well, sure.”

Sue's heart fell, but she was glad in some way that he hadn't gotten her anything. It wasn't like she'd even thought about buying him something. “Well, I love them, and I'm so proud he did. They are certainly a big blessing. We're able to go much faster now, and we'll be there by Saturday morning for sure. Will you be glad the trip's over?”

“Sort of yes, and sort of no. It all depends.” Becky made her doll dance in her lap, then held it to Blue's face as though the doll was giving him a kiss. “But that's not all.”

“What's not all? What are you talking about?”

She looked up at her with an exasperated expression. “The mules, silly!” Then her eyes sparkled, and she grinned, nodding her head. “Mister Henry got you something else, too.”

H
ER AGREEING TO STOP EARLIER
pleased Henry. He'd have been more than disappointed if she'd chosen to push on. After all, it certainly looked as though he'd made it possible to get her cotton to Jefferson before the brokers sailed back to New Orleans. As he unhitched his mules, he tried to put that city away from his mind's eye, but that awful memory of fighting for Old Hickory wouldn't be denied. Made him relive those horrible days when he'd seen things no human being should ever see. For too long, he fought the battle again, then a hand touched his shoulder.

“You all right, Mister Henry?”

He focused. The boy stared at him. “Hey, Levi, you see to the other team?”

“Yes, sir. Want me to help you?”

“That'd be great.”

For the next bit, he and the youngster unhitched and then hobbled the new team without a word or any trouble. He loved it that the boy didn't have to be told twice about a thing. “Thanks for the help.”

“Any time.” Levi smiled. “You sure surprised Aunt Sue.”

Henry laughed, then nodded. “You hurrying past us when you went to help Titus was perfect timing, then you and him coming back with the team so quick. I loved it, even if it was just a little cruel.”

“Maybe so.” Levi laughed with him. “But the look on her face was something I don't think I'll ever forget.”

Henry gathered his new harness; it needed oil more than he'd thought. “I know I won't.” He looked off, thinking of her. “She's one fine woman, that aunt of yours.”

“Yes, sir. She's been right good to me.” The boy leaned back against the wagon. “Sir, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, what's on your mind?”

“You told Littlejohn that you'd killed seven men. I know for a fact you're not a liar, but I can't imagine you— Was it true?”

“Afraid so.”

“And you beat one to death with your bare hands?”

Henry nodded. “On my fifteenth birthday.” He hated telling the story, hated reliving it in his dreams even worse, but if anyone other than Sue needed to know about him, it'd be Levi. “Like the fool I acted back then, I decided to give myself a couple of beers to celebrate my birth.”

Sue's nephew stepped closer, appeared to want to quiz him, probably about the beer, but held his peace. Henry launched into the tale, stating the facts without any relish or embellishment. He sidestepped exactly what the lumberjack had taunted him about; surely the boy could figure it out himself.

“So I kept on hitting him. A part of me wanted to stop. I knew that I should.” He took a deep breath, then let it out. “But I didn't.”

“What about the other six?”

Henry glanced over to see where the ladies were and saw
only his little miss playing with Blue, lying stretched out near the cook fire. “Five in the war.” He pulled his shirt up, exposing his side. “See that scar?”

Levi leaned in and stared. “What's it from?”

“An Arkansas toothpick.”

“Wow, a cut like that, and you still were able to get the other guy?” The boy shook his head.

“Two men jumped my mother and me right after we left Kentucky on our way to New Orleans.” He retucked his shirt. “I took the knife away from the guy who gutted me and killed his partner with it.”

Levi seemed all wrapped up in his story. “What happened to the one who cut you?”

“Mother shot him.” Henry looked at the ground.

“Oh.” The boy stared off at the horizon. “I told that Skunk guy that I hoped he died and that I was the one that sent him to Hell.”

“I heard you.”

He faced Henry again with his eyes watery. “I didn't mean it. I was glad I didn't kill him. It was bad enough that I had to shoot the man.”

Henry dropped the leather and pulled the boy to his chest, embracing him. “Son, you did what you had to, the right thing.” He held him tight and spoke directly into his ear. “I have bad dreams sometimes about the men I killed, especially that first one, but I've not lost a bit of sleep over those two evil ruffians that tried to rob us. No telling what else they had in mind for Mother and me.”

For the longest time, the boy let himself be hugged, then pushed away. “Would you have really shot Littlejohn while he had ahold of Aunt Sue?”

“Yes, I would have gotten closer and aimed away from her as much as possible.”

Levi nodded. “I was not happy when she showed back up at the Dawsons' with you. Thought I could handle the hundred miles to Jefferson no problem; that we didn't need the likes of you.”

Henry smiled. “Figured as much. You weren't hiding your feelings.”

Levi glanced at the last of the day's light fading on the western sky, then looked back. “I was wrong, so wrong. We'd all be dead—or worse—wasn't for you.” He stuck out his hand. Henry took it. “I want to thank you proper and all, and tell you that I'll be pleased as a fat tick on a hound to have you for an uncle.” He grinned.

WITH THE CORN BREAD ON,
Sue had innocently stepped to her larder for the potatoes and heard the men talking. She really wasn't listening until she heard the name Littlejohn coupled with seven dead men. Then she quietly turned and leaned against the far side of the wagon in the shadows. Curiosity got the better of her; she just couldn't help herself. Besides, as far as she remembered, no Scripture condemned listening in on a private conversation.

And at least she'd found out the stories on those men he killed without having to ask. She'd been wondering and pondering on how she might bring the topic up. Soon as their discussion ended, and her nephew started apologizing for his early-on bad attitude, she hurried silently to get back to the fire and cut up the potatoes.

By now, Sue counted any vegetable other than beans a treat, and fried taters always excited Becky. She scooted the Dutch oven full of corn bread to the edge of the fire and then
dumped a big blob of lard into the skillet that held the browning salt pork. She looked over at her daughter. “Don't you think that dog is milking his injuries a bit too much?”

Becky faced her with a frown. “No, Mama! What in the world would make you ask such a thing? This dog saved all our lives; mine twice in the last week.” She went back to rubbing him, shoulder to hip. “He's a courageous dog, the bravest dog I've ever known. I love him.”

Sue smiled. “I knew that, and it's pretty obvious that he loves you just as much. Want to help slice the potatoes?”

“You're frying taters? Yes, ma'am, I'll help!” Her little girl patted the animal. “You rest, Blue. I won't be gone long.” His tail whacked the ground twice, but he didn't raise his head.

Henry moseyed over with his new harness on his shoulder and an oily rag in his hand. Sue looked up, and he smiled.

She smiled back. “Hey, how'd your mules take to being hobbled?”

“Good.” He dropped the leather next to a big pine and sat down, leaning against the tree. “Stood still like they'd done it before.”

“Excellent. Shouldn't be too long before supper's ready.” She looked past the man to where the boy stood playing mumbley-peg with his new knife in the last of the daylight. “I could use a bit more deadfall if you've a mind, Levi.”

He glanced at her and nodded. “I put some under the other wagon. That all gone?”

“I don't know. Maybe you could check.”

He wiped his knife on his breeches, put it away, and then walked toward the other wagon.

Henry looked up at her and grinned. “Reason I wanted to stop here, besides having enough light in case there was a problem
with the new team, is that I figure we can make Jefferson in two more days.”

Rebecca dropped her jaw and held her mouth open too long. “Two days, only two and we'll be in Jefferson?” She ran off. “Hey, Levi.”

Sue dumped her last potato in the hot grease and shook her head in disbelief. “You really think we can make better than twenty miles a day?”

“Yes, ma'am. Once when we had to, Jackson force-marched us over a hundred miles in four days. Like to of killed the mules. Matter of fact, we had a couple that didn't make it, but we replaced them before they dropped. Old Hickory was hard, but never stupid.”