Black Ransom, page 2
Ehron Lee gave an absent nod. “That’s what I’m hopin’.” His mood suddenly became restless. “Hell, shoulda rode straight through. Coulda been back in time for breakfast.”
“Early supper’ll have to do,” Winston said calmly with a grin.
Ehron Lee relaxed and smiled self-consciously. “Reckon I’m too anxious.”
“Reckon,” Winston agreed.
Winston then heaved a sigh, pulled himself with some effort from his bedroll, and lumbered over to his horse. He reached inside his saddlebag and pulled out what looked to Ehron Lee to be a small bottle. Familiar with his brother-in-law’s habits, Ehron Lee didn’t have to guess its contents.
“You’re gonna need some shut-eye with the ride we got ahead of us, and I got just the thing,” Winston said as he sat next to Ehron Lee, settling himself against a large rock. “A coupla slugs of this here corn whiskey and yuh’ll feel right sleepy in no time.”
Though not normally a drinking man, Ehron Lee sat up, accepted the bottle, and pulled a good swallow. He grimaced at the burning taste and handed it back over to Winston. Winston lifted the bottle in a salute and guzzled back twice as much as Ehron Lee had, though his own reaction was a satisfied exhale of breath.
“Good for what ails yuh,” Winston remarked expansively as he started to pass the bottle back toward Ehron Lee, who declined with a shake of his head.
It didn’t take long for Ehron Lee to feel the relaxing effects of the whiskey. Although he doubted that it would aid his sleep, it did make him less anxious.
The liquor also helped to protect his his body against the chill of the night, providing a comforting warmth. Gazing up into a vast sky filled with stars, smudges of shadowy, purple-edged clouds, and a large, low September moon and listening to the soothing sounds of the water as it coursed through the creek, Ehron Lee grew strangely reflective, which generally was not his nature as he was a taciturn man rarely given to expressing his innermost thoughts. But suddenly he was in the mood to talk, to share what he was feeling with his brother-in-law.
“Strange how things turn out,” he began, at first speaking as if to himself.
Winston looked at him, the expression on his jowly, red-blotched face uncomprehending.
“Strange?” he echoed as he withdrew a half-smoked cigar from his breast pocket and struck a match against the edge of a rock to light it. “How d’yuh mean?”
Ehron Lee’s gaze continued to reach far off into the night. All was still and quiet except for the crackling of the campfire and the flow of the creek.
“Just got to thinkin’ ’bout the war,” he said, his voice mellow and introspective. “Rememberin’ back to the fightin’. Things that I saw. Men dyin’ all around me, and me never knowin’ day to day if I might be next. Most of the time doubtin’ if … if I’d ever get back to Melinda. Yeah, sometimes thinkin’ that way—‘specially on those long nights ’fore we’d be goin’ into battle, when everyone was quiet with their own thoughts, I’d write notes I prayed would never have to be delivered to her … Havin’ those doubts gnawin’ away at me … more times than not, I was sure I’d go crazy. Saw enough men that did.” He paused, and then he lightened a bit. “Guess what I’m sayin’ is, back then I never coulda believed things woulda worked out like they have.”
“You earned some good comin’ to yuh,” Winston said as he puffed on his cigar.
Winston spoke those words with sincerity, appreciating Ehron Lee’s need to express his thoughts. His brother-in-law had never really spoken about the war after he’d returned and moved in with him and Abigail, certainly had never discussed specific events. He’d also never talked about finding his home in ruins and the tragedy that had befallen his father. Winston understood and, out of respect, never badgered him with questions, like some folks were apt to do. But he wasn’t ignorant of the horrors Ehron Lee and others like him had experienced. News was reported daily and Winston kept abreast of it all, though he tried his damndest to keep the discouraging updates from Melinda, especially the reports where the Union army suffered a defeat on the battlefield, experiencing heavy casualties—perhaps Ehron Lee among them.
Owing to his poor health and obesity, Winston was exempt from military duty, and because of that, he figured Ehron Lee would never expect someone who had not participated in the war to understand what he had been through, which likely was the reason he’d never said much. That … and more understandably not wanting to upset his wife with tragic tales of having to kill men and the times when he himself had come close to death. Those were experiences Ehron Lee elected to keep to himself.
Winston was correct in his assumption. There were many things about the war that Ehron Lee didn’t want to discuss—or that he even wanted to remember. But he knew those memories would never abandon him. The still-vivid details often haunted his dreams, pulling him from sleep in a cold sweat, a silent scream lodged in his throat. There were the faces of the men and especially the boys he’d been forced to kill on the battlefield. Faces that once had been defined by individual features but now over time seemed almost to blend into a whole. The horrified and pleading expressions of his own mortally wounded comrades, those for whom he could do no more than try to provide comfort in their last agonizing moments of life. The helpless screams that came both from their injuries and the realization that they were dying. Nor could he forget those times when he was forced to assist in battlefield surgery: extracting bullets and even helping with the crude amputation of limbs while under heavy fire.
How could any man erase such images from his thoughts? While he tried to forget, he understood they would be stamped on his brain until the day he died.
He didn’t fear death, and neither did he fear the prospect of hell. To his mind, he’d already been there.
The one truth, the one fact that Ehron Lee could never deny, was that the war had forever changed him. He was thankful that he hadn’t become bitter or mean-mad like other soldiers he had served beside, those who could not reconcile defeat after all they had suffered and whose disillusionment had followed them into civilian life. But where once Ehron Lee had been a God-fearing pacifist, he now became determined to fight to hold on to what was his. He didn’t resent this change in attitude. Indeed he embraced it as necessary to properly care and provide for his family in a country still rebuilding after four years of strife.
Winston took another swallow from the bottle of whiskey and once more handed it over to Ehron Lee, who considered before accepting the bottle and taking a short drink. Again he wore a sour face as the liquor burned a trail down his throat.
“You know what else I used to ponder?” Ehron Lee went on, wiping whiskey residue from his lips. “I wondered if Melinda would even be waitin’ for me if I got back. Though she ain’t never said so, hadda be hard on her, not knowin’ any more’n I did. Each day maybe waitin’ to hear if …” His voice drifted off and he sat quietly for a moment.
Winston puffed patiently on his cigar.
“Wondered a lot about that,” Ehron Lee resumed with a deep sigh. “Girl so young, just married, facin’ the prospect of bein’ alone. A widow. Or maybe seein’ me comin’ back half a man. That’s why when I came home and saw that she was the same gal I’d left behind … that nothin’ had changed, I made myself a promise that, no matter what, I was gonna build a good life for her.”
Winston said, “Well, Ehron Lee, I’ve knowed Melinda longer’n you … and I can tell yuh, you have given her a fine life. She’s as happy as I ever seen her.”
Ehron Lee appreciated hearing Winston tell him that, and he responded by giving his brother-in-law an affectionate clap on the shoulder. At the same time his introspective mood lifted. He’d spoken his thoughts and felt better for it. He folded his arms behind his neck, leaned back against the graying stump of a dead tree, and suddenly looked to Winston as contented as he had ever seen him.
“Yep, she’s a right fine gal, Ehron Lee,” Winston acknowledged. He was finished with his cigar and flicked it into the campfire.
Ehron Lee breathed out, smiled, and nodded.
“Can see yuh someday buildin’ a nice ranch on that land,” Winston rhapsodized. “Maybe raisin’ some cattle …”
Ehron Lee gave his head a slow but deliberate shake. “Ain’t thinkin’ that ambitious, Winston,” he replied. “Just a nice quiet farm to work on.”
Winston regarded his brother-in-law with a puzzled expression before he said, “Can’t rightly picture you makin’ a career outta bein’ a sodbuster.”
Ehron Lee smiled at him. “And I can’t think of any life more appealin’. Reckon I got you to thank for that.”
Winston gave him a questioning look.
“Gettin’ me to do most of the chores ’round the farm, yuh lazy bastard,” Ehron Lee clarified with a teasing half grin. “Found I kinda took to workin’ on the land.”
Winston didn’t take offense at the remark. He knew it to be true. He considered for a moment, shrugged to himself, then raised the bottle in another salute and drank what was left. He threw the bottle off into the darkness. They both heard it land with a soft thump somewhere in the distance.
The campfire was burning low. Ehron Lee rose and scooped up some of the dry deadwood they’d been picking up along the trail. He stepped over to the fire, lowered to his haunches, and slowly and methodically tossed the pieces of wood into the flames, watching as the fire sparked and popped, and feeling the caressing warmth against his face.
Walking back over to Winston, Ehron Lee sighed as he massaged the back of his wrist over his growth of beard. “First thing I’m gonna do when I get back is shave off these whiskers … then settle myself in a long bath.”
“A bath!” Winston exclaimed, as he was a man not particularly concerned about his own cleanliness. “Yuh talk like you been away a month.”
“Feels like it,” Ehron Lee said, his thoughts focused on how much he missed his wife.
“Well, I’ll tell yuh,” Winston said. “You think ’bout your bath and I’ll content myself with the fine meal the gals’ll have prepared for us.” He rolled his hand over his massive belly in anticipation.
“S’pose you’ve been thinkin’ of nothin’ else?” Ehron Lee teased him.
“You suppose right,” Winston admitted freely.
Ehron Lee said, “Well, what say I help yuh get your mind off your appetite? How ’bout some music?”
Winston was a simple man not possessed of many abilities. But he did have one talent—he could play the mouth organ—and it was a skill appreciated by Ehron Lee.
“Sure,” Winston agreed. He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew the instrument. “Anythin’ particular?”
Ehron Lee’s mouth curved in a slow smile and he gave him a wink. “Think you know.”
Winston nodded and he readied his lips with some puckering and then blew out the chords of a gentle harmony. Ehron Lee instantly recognized the tune: “Barbara Allen,” a particular favorite of his and Melinda’s. The song they had danced to at their wedding. Hearing the song now, he felt momentarily wistful but, in a way, that much nearer to his wife.
He gently sang the opening lyrics: “In Scarlet Town, where I was born, there was a fair maid dwellin’, made every youth cry well-a-day, her name was Barbara Allen.” He softly hummed along with the rest of the song while his thoughts took him back to a specific time not so very long ago …
*
He recalled the day when he was working alone in the field, enjoying the warmth of the midafternoon summer sunshine and even the clean, honest sweat from his labor. Melinda had joined Winston and Abigail when they rode into town to pick up some groceries and a few supplies from the mercantile. Ehron Lee remembered there was something else, too: a strange little mystery that Melinda had been trying to keep secret from him. A surprise she promised to reveal once she came back from town. In the days before, he’d occasionally catch her throwing him a sly, sideways glance and then quickly turning away when he met her eye. He suspected Winston and Abigail had been let in on her secret but likewise were close-mouthed.
He had almost finished his work that afternoon, leading the mule-drawn plow across the small stretch of soil, when he heard a familiar call, traveling at him on the still prairie air. He hastened to turn at the sound.
She came running through the field toward him, excitedly calling his name, arms outstretched in anticipation of an embrace. The moment would always stay with Ehron Lee, for framed forever in time was the vision of Melinda rushing through the tall grass and between the cottonwoods that bordered the field—her long honey-colored hair tied in a ribbon but flowing out behind her as she ran, fair-complexioned skin, the soft pink rosiness of her cheeks, sensitive puckered lips, and cornflower blue eyes so bright and lively he swore he could see them clearly from where he stood.
Ehron Lee’s heart beat a little faster, as it always seemed to do when he was in her presence. He dropped the reins, drew a breath, and started toward her, whipping off the battered old hat he was wearing and wiping the perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand.
When Melinda reached him, she threw her arms around his shoulders, embracing him tightly while she kissed him full on the mouth. Ehron Lee immediately responded by encircling her petite waist with his strong arms. He just barely repressed himself from expressing his foremost thought: My God, you’re beautiful.
“Can’t say I disapprove of the greeting,” he said once their lips parted. “But that’s some hello, considerin’ you’ve only been gone for a coupla hours.”
Melinda gazed up at him, her eyes smiling as brightly as the curvature on her lips. Still, it took a while for her to speak what was on her mind. What she seemed so excited about. Ehron Lee was patient, though inwardly he was bursting at the seams to hear what she had to say.
Finally she said, “I been wantin’ to tell you for the longest time but just hadda be sure.”
Now Ehron Lee looked a little perplexed. A bit concerned, in fact.
Melinda inhaled a deep breath that she released with emphasis.
“Went to see the doctor,” she said. “He told me … well, he said it ain’t just gonna be the two of us much longer.”
Ehron Lee felt momentarily numb as he wasn’t sure he was hearing correctly. Maybe, he reckoned, he’d been out in the sun too long. His expression went comically blank. He began to wipe the palms of his hands against his jeans in an unconscious gesture.
Gradually what his wife was telling him began to sink in, though he was unsure of what to say.
He fumbled with his words and his hands made a vague gesture. “Why, you—you ain’t even showin’ yet. Shouldn’t there be … I mean, shouldn’t your belly …”
Melinda giggled at his awkwardness. “It’s still early.”
Ehron Lee coughed self-consciously. He felt a little foolish at his naïveté.
“Guess I ain’t had much experience with babies and all,” he tried to explain.
“Well, don’t you worry none, Daddy,” Melinda said as she tenderly kissed his cheek. “You’ll be gettin’ plenty of practice.”
“Reckon,” was all Ehron Lee could manage.
But then, suddenly overwhelmed, he stepped back, planted his closed fists firmly against his hips, breathed out heavily, and exclaimed, “Damn, you’re just too young to be a ma!”
Catching Melinda’s quick look of surprise, he grinned at her reassuringly.
Relieved that he was just being playful, Melinda sighed as she gazed into her husband’s eyes.
“Just tell me you’re happy, Ehron Lee, that’s all I want to hear,” she urged sweetly.
Ehron Lee took his wife into his arms and pulled her close. “Happy? How could I feel otherwise?”
They kissed again, a lingering, passionate kiss that solidified the love between them and the love both would soon share with their child. Then, with their arms wrapped tightly around each other, Ehron Lee and Melinda walked through the gold-spilled sunshine across the field back toward the house, preparing for yet another new beginning in their life together …
*
Winston finished playing the song. He glanced over at his brother-in-law and saw him sitting with a faraway look on his face. Winston nodded knowingly and put the mouth organ back into his shirt pocket. Both men settled into silence, gazing up into the sky, each relaxing with his thoughts on this peaceful night. From somewhere off in the distance they heard a lone coyote bark.
There was a brief moment of unnatural stillness, followed by a sudden agitation of the two horses tethered near the edge of their camp—and then a quick rustling from somewhere in the surrounding brush. Before Ehron Lee or Winston could fully comprehend what was happening—or react to it—two men emerged from behind them, moving swiftly to either side of the pair. One was brandishing a Henry .44 rifle, the other an eight-gauge shotgun, both leveled in their direction.
Though Ehron Lee briefly considered the move, there was no point in attempting to reach for the holstered Colt revolver, which was lying close to where he was sitting. He would never have had a chance.
The two men who had come upon them were dirty and unshaven. Big men—muscular, not fat. Even without them brandishing weapons, their appearance suggested trouble. Both wore wide-brimmed Stetsons that shadowed much of their faces.
The man holding the Henry was dressed in dusty, well-worn buckskins, looking as if he’d spent several months roughing it in the wilderness. He was the first to speak.
“Whyn’t yuh toss your gun belt over this way—slow and easy,” he said.
Ehron Lee looked hard at the man, saw the intent in his eyes, and did as instructed, trying to keep the trembling from his fingers. He felt both apprehensive and angered.
“Where’s yours?” Buckskins asked Winston.
Winston jerked his head over to where his horse was standing. His gun belt was slung over his saddle, next to his saddlebag.
Buckskins nodded. “That’s fine. We can jus’ leave it there.”
“We don’t want no trouble,” Winston said in as steady a voice as he could manage.
