Escape From Elysian Fields 2hy4f

Copyright © C. Forrest Lundin 2021

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Copyright Notice: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental. Author's Note: Not all Cherokee held slaves. When the Cherokee Nation found itself on the Trail of Tears, there were slaves on the journey as well. Those African-Americans slaves were used as badly by some of the tribes of the Five Nations as by white slave holders. The Cherokee did pas land through the mother. They also ed laws to keep men, White men from obtaining Cherokee property by marriage and laws to protect women who married outside the tribe. About Southern Baptist, the ‘southern’ part does denote their acceptance of slavery as the Negro lot. License Notes: This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your retailer and purchase a copy for yourself. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Artwork: Get Covers

Dedicated to: Great-great-great-Grandma.

Contents

Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Epilogue Two Indians and A Dead Man: Chapter One About the author: Other books by C. Forrest Lundin:

Prologue

The Rebels couldn’t hold out much longer. When he heard about Richmond falling to the Union, Izzy went to his commander and asked to be released. After a long argument, Izzy told him he was going one way or another, that Cherokee Nation citizens weren’t subject to the laws governing the rest of the troops. He didn’t know if it was true or not. It seemed his commander didn’t know either. Since he volunteered and had brought his kit with him, he could take the lot and vamoose. Not one to stick around and risk having permission rescinded, Izzy left. Having dealt with his old man for years, he knew better than to dally. Buster, his older brother, fought for the South. Buster hated Izzy, a given in the MacCullough family, and no one seemed surprised when Izzy took off to up with the North and Buster chose the South. His father hadn’t been fond of Izzy either. The land and everything on it would go to Buster so Izzy’s determination to reach home in the Cherokee Nation before his brother had nothing to do with the land. With Buster’s nasty temper, Izzy feared for his mother, Satin, Lace, and the other slaves. God only knew what Buster would do, or Turlough. Beating Buster home, if he could manage it, might save lives. If he had a head start... Izzy didn’t know if Buster was still alive, but suspected he was. It would be a race to see who could get home first. He didn’t plan to stick around. He’d grab Momma, Satin, Lace, and whoever else would accompany him, and take off west. California or Oregon, either would do. As far from Turlough and Buster as he could get would be a wise move. To his mind, neither man was sane. Losing the war could make them both let go of whatever slim hold they had on reason. The Cherokee Nation would be a hotbed of hate and men like him, those who fought for the Union, would be hard-pressed to get along in the coming years. The forced relocation, combined with the war... he could see hard times ahead for Union sympathizers. Better to get out while he could.

Izzy didn’t like it, but the old Cherokee trace seemed his best bet to get home the quickest. But he’d best be damn careful and stay alert. Meeting anyone he knew could find him dead. Above Memphis would be the best place to cross the Mississippi. Then he’d turn southwest toward Little Rock. There he would pick up the old trail, but he’d keep to the woods and away from people as much as possible. Folk with nothing left to lose could be downright dangerous. They would know him for a Union man by the blue uniform coat, one he couldn’t afford to take off for a little while. Until he felt sure the war was over and he wouldn’t be seen as a deserter by the army he’d served. A calculated gamble, one he had to take. Izzy urged his horse to walk on when they should have stopped to rest. He hadn’t come to a place he deemed safe to camp. When he did, they’d bivouac for the night. He kept the canteens full; water wasn’t an issue. Grazing for Thor and a place where he could make a small fire were mandatory. When others succumbed to dysentery and the like, he stayed healthy by drinking pine needle tea and foraging for wild plants. Between his mother and Satin, he knew how to thrive in the woods. Momma said it was his heritage. Buster had never bothered. He looked at the old ways with distain. They had moved past being naked bucks in the forest. Land and slaves had moved them a cut above the rabble. The sun skimmed the tops of the trees when Izzy found what he wanted. A small meadow adjacent to a stream might have been a beaver pond in years past. Now, it held an abundance of summer grass. He could fill the canteens and what looked to be a deadfall would provide dry wood for a fire and a place to spread his bedroll for the night. As he hoped, the roots of a tree which had given way during the stream’s spring flood years before, captured other pieces of wood and the lot was dry as could be. He dismounted and his gelding heaved a sigh of relief. Thor went to cropping the vegetation as soon as Izzy hobbled him. A small fire came next. That burning hot and nearly smokeless, he filled the coffee pot at the spring and went back to his camp for the night. Hunkered down

by the fire, he waited for the water to boil and listened to the tone of the surrounding forest, alert to change. An owl hooted and a night jar called as the light faded. Come morning, he would try to tickle a fish from the stream if there were any to be had. The two armies had almost denuded the countryside of game and fish. He’d seen a squirrel but didn’t want to make any noise. Shooting anything might bring him the trouble he wanted to avoid. Thinking he’d spotted some Man of the Earth vines on the verge of the meadow; Izzy had marked them in his mind. When day broke, he’d check. If that’s what he saw, he could dig them and roast what he found come evening. His stomach grumbled and he shrugged. He’d gone without food enough times during the war to know he wasn’t at risk for lack of something to eat. Tomorrow night would be soon enough to fill his belly. Which suggested another need—something beside his rifle and shooting iron to hunt with. At the top of his list of things he needed, a decent sapling to make a bow stood up there along with arrow material. He could harden the tips of the arrows in the fire, which would be fine for small game. The silence of the bow was what he needed most. The next time he ran across a stand of willow, it would be best to stop and see what he could find. He had decent string in his saddlebags. The real need was a straight hardwood sapling for the base of the bow. The tall, rangy young man, with dark hair like his mother, finished his tea and tossed the dregs on the fire. He stood and checked the location of the horse. Izzy walked into the meadow to bring his mount closer. The hobbles removed; Izzy picketed the gelding close by. If he had to leave in a hurry, the horse should be handy. Thor saddled; he fastened his gear to the back of the saddle. The girth he left a little loose. The animal could still nibble whatever it found close by. Izzy kicked dirt on the coals and put the fire out. He lay in the bedroll, both rifle and pistol close at hand. A breeze came up and played tag through the treetops. Nothing sounded wrong or out of place.

Early morning found Izzy digging the roots of the plant he’d spotted the previous day on the edge of the meadow. The plant had an extensive root system, and he only took the youngest ones. They would be tender once roasted in the coals of the evening’s fire. Keeping a southwest course, he eased through the woods. Twice he had to take a long detour around an isolated farm. Both had dogs which yapped their heads off until he got far enough away to be out of scent range. Just before he found a campsite for the night, he spooked a young squirrel. Mouth crammed full; it couldn’t make up its mind which direction to take across the faint trail Izzy followed. Feeling sorry for the thing as it scampered first one direction then the other, he pulled his knife from his boot and threw it at the animal, skewering it to the ground. Izzy dropped Thor’s reins and kicked free of the stirrups. He hurried to gut the animal before the meat got contaminated by the contents of its gut. He thanked the squirrel for its meat and left the hide and guts there. Some other critter would make a meal of his leavings. With it wrapped in an old piece of cloth, Izzy stuffed it into a saddlebag, mounted up, and rode on. That night, his belly full of roasted squirrel and roots, he slept well. Morning dawned dark and gray. Rain threatened. He’d been feeling it coming for the last day. His right arm where he’d broken it as a boy had been throbbing since mid-afternoon the day before. Breaking out the slicker, he got ready to get wet, but there was only so much the rain gear could do. If the heavens opened, he’d be wet eventually. In some ways, rain could be a blessing. It would cover any tracks he’d left. It didn’t matter how hard he tried, there would be some sign of his ing. Another possible side effect would be if he reached the river as the rain moved through. Increased bug activity on the river might mean a fisherman. Free Negros tended to congregate in the upper reaches of the Missip above Memphis, or so he’d heard from a few soldiers. They were a canny lot and didn’t often mix with anyone. If he could find one, he hoped to get ferried across the

river to the west side. Good fishing would bring them out, he hoped. Then he had better do a good job of convincing. The next day dawned gray, but the rain held off. Perfect fishing weather. They followed the river trail as best they could. Izzy spotted a long sandbar jutting out into the murky water. As they wound around the curve of the bank, a boat made from a large log sat in the middle of the eddy. Created by the sandbank, the still waters made a great fishing hole. In the middle of the curve, he saw two other dugouts. The first boat had an older Negro and a young boy handling the lines. The woman in the second canoe fishing with a small child made a motion with her hand. A quick glance told him to keep his eyes on the older man in the first boat. The man sitting in the third dugout spun the thing around with his paddle, putting his back to Izzy. He didn’t want to cause any trouble and if they wanted to keep the identity of the big man in the third canoe a secret, he wouldn’t argue. “Mornin’.” Izzy took off his hat, slid from the saddle, and squatted on the bank. “How’s the fishing?” “Tolerable. You hankerin’ to buy one?” “I’d be in the market ‘cept I’m figurin' I need to hang on to my money for another purpose.” After a quick suck of his teeth, the old man shook his head. “How ‘bout some free advice?” “I’ll always listen. Might not take it, but I’d be a fool to not listen.” “Iffen y’all didn’t steal that blue coat, best take it off and hide it in tha woods ‘afore y’all get ta Memphis. Ain’t no bluecoat’s life worth a plug nickel by his lonesome. Y’all find a necktie party before setting a foot inside tha city.” “Thank ya kindly for the advice.” Izzy noticed it didn’t take long for his hard won Northern speech to revert to the dialect he’d heard from Satin all his life. “That’s one I’ll heed. If ya haven’t heard, tha war’s near over. Wouldn’t surprise me to hear they signed a surrender by now.”

The small family in the boat exchanged glances. Then the old man turned back to Izzy. “Y’all a deserter?” “No. My commander let me go early ‘cause I volunteered. He couldn’t hold me. I’m trying to beat my elder brother home with the news if he’s still alive. I need to cross tha river and get back to Cherokee Nation first. Pa had slaves. Old man’s been hoot owl crazy for a few years. I need to get back and get everyone away before him and the heir start taking the loss out on his Negros.” The old man spit into the river. “Cherokees never did much for us. Heard there was slaves with them when tha government relocated tha lot.” “True. I’m not going to try to tell ya different. But I’m wearin’ this bluecoat ‘cause I didn’t hold with it. Tell me, y’all know anyone who can get me across?” He waved a hand at the Mississippi in front of him. “Maybe. What y’all planning to do with tha folk after you get them? You gonna let them go?” “That’s tha plan. But not in Cherokee Nation. I’m headed for Oregon or California. A new life for them and me. We get there, the lot can do what they please.” “What’s this heir look like?” “Taller than me. Dark red hair and he’ll have two Negros with him. Abel, who looks kinda like him.” The old man snorted. He understood what Izzy meant. Abel was Buster’s halfbrother through Satin. “The other one, Leather. He’s half a head taller than the heir. Someone else sired him. Got a thin nose, chiseled face, and high cheekbones.” “You want age across; what you got to pay for it?” “My last gold liberty. I saved it for this.” “We can get you across if tha critter of yourn; don’t put up a fuss. Go down round the next bend. There’s two cabins back in tha woods. Don’t go by them.

Y’all see a log barge. Got stake sides ‘bout waist high, sitting on tha bank. Wait there for us.” Izzy rose and mounted Thor. “See you there.”

The log raft sat on the bank. It had a big sweep oar lying across the box he assumed they used for transporting animals. They didn’t use anything available close to Memphis. He understood why. The families would face hatred and God only knew what else if they tried to interact with the white Southerners downriver. Behind him, almost impossible to see from the river, two cabins stood tucked away behind trees and brush. Izzy noted a tendril of smoke exiting the mud chimneys of the cabins. People lived in both. He wondered how their lives would change with the defeat of the Confederate States. The three canoes floated toward the bank. Izzy noticed what he hadn’t before—a line of rocks and debris that had backed up dirt and sand behind it. Scrub brush and willows had put down roots in the tangle, creating a narrow eddy where the boats put in. Not natural where it was, Izzy figured the family had caused the pile of material to stack up there. It provided a respite from the current. Spring floods might take it out or damage their makeshift efforts, but when the water level subsided again, they could put more boulders in the water. It didn’t appear to be in danger of washing away. Some snags from upriver had lodged at the edge of the pile. The whole thing might change the direction of the river if left alone. Izzy dismounted when they pulled the dugouts up on the bank. The old man bent to whisper in the boy’s ear and the little fellow took off, legs pumping as he ran toward the cabins. Saying an internal prayer that these people would deal fairly with him, Izzy watched the family fasten their strings of fish to sturdy bushes and drop them in the water. They didn’t know him and had no reason to believe a word he said. One big thing had bothered him from the moment he understood his playmates were slaves—how could Pa think the government thought more of him than it did of the slaves he claimed to own? The government had taken their land and sent them off on the Cherokee Trace. They weren’t one whit different than the folk he used for free labor. Today, or tomorrow, if the government thought the land they supposedly gave to the Cherokee Nation held something they wanted,

it would be gone. He turned the matter over in his mind for more than a week before leaving to up with the Union Army. Izzy, sure as God made acorns, wasn’t going to side with the Rebels. All the big talk boiled down to one simple matter—they intended to keep other humans in slavery. What being freed by the government might look like... who knew? He’d seen what slavery was and didn’t lean that way. The old man approached him, his craggy face solemn as a fire and brimstone preacher. He hitched up his pants. As his bare feet hit the earth and little puffs of dust rose. “Y’all get that there critter in tha box. Iffen you can’t hold it still, then tie it both sides. It gets to cutting up and tha whole shebang is liable ta turn turtle.” “Thor’s good. He’ll stand for me. I’m not eager ta take a swim.” “Y’all been warned. Can’t say I didn’t say. Now, here’s how it’s gonna go. Y’all in tha box, we push off and steer on an angle. We’ll put in over yonder.” He turned and pointed toward the far bank about a half mile downstream. “Stay in tha box until I say. Y’all got a problem taking orders from tha likes of me?” “Nope.” Izzy chuckled. “I’m guessing y’all done this a time or two. Makes sense to keep my trap shut.” For the first time, the old man smiled. “Tha old girl’s been across the Misahsip a few times, for sure.” “Mind my asking how you get it back from the other side?” “For a soldier, y’all ain’t too smart. It’s why both men go along. We pull it back upriver a piece, put in, and drift back ta this side. Tha river does tha work, we steer. ‘Course, it don’t hurt ta have a couple strong backs ta paddle out inta tha current.” “Well, now, I learned something today. I ever go into the ferry business, I’ve got an idea how to run one. Holler when ready. Tell me what to do and it’s done.” It all went slick as a hog on ice. The old man took payment before they pushed out into the wide river. That didn’t bother Izzy because they were already in the

box on the raft. He liked the old man’s sense of timing. Thor pranced a little as the river’s current latched on to the raft and it lurched. He calmed the horse and watched as the men paddled hard. Strong arms drove them deep, and the old man hung on to the tiller, using his body weight to keep the angle he wanted. Being at the mercy of the river almost took his breath away. In the end, they came in on the far bank where the old man had predicted they would. It surprised him a little when the younger men picked the top half of the box up. That left about eight inches of rough sawn plank for Thor to step over. Nothing out of the ordinary for the animal. The old man left the two younger ones to see about hitching the tow line to the raft. He walked over to Izzy. “What’s yur name, soldier?” “Izzy.” With the trip over, he tightened the saddle girth. “Israel MacCullough.” “Now that y’all on tha opposite bank, y’all gonna do what ya said? Take care of folk?” “This side or the other, makes no difference. Satin is like a mother ta me. Her girl, Lace, and I ate off the same plate, nursed at the same bosom. They’re family.” Swinging up into the saddle, Izzy stared at the old man. “My word is good.” “So’s mine. Y’all come back this way, I ain’t here, tell them old Amos said y’all good for a free crossing. Godspeed, Izzy MacCullough.” Well before the sun would set, Izzy turned Thor in a southwesterly direction. He’d been over the old trail before and would know when he found it. Amos offering him a free trip warmed his heart. They didn’t have much but were willing to share. Still, if God answered prayers, he’d never see the Mississippi River again. Never.

The rain returned. It spit on and off for three days. Worse, right after picking up the trail, Thor got a pebble in his hoof, and they were forced to wait a day to allow it to heal. He had little choice. He found a decent sapling which should make a good bow after being worked. On the way back to his camp, under a spreading old pine back away from the main trail, Izzy fell. It might not have been quite as bad if he hadn’t landed on his right arm. The break he suffered as a boy had healed, but it still had a weakness. That break caused him to learn to do everything with his left arm. Then he caught a saber cut, not a major one, but enough to tear up the muscle in the right arm. He suspected that injury might’ve cleared the way for his release by his commander. Had he landed more on his back and less on that upper right arm, it would have been painful but not nearly as much as it was. Izzy feared his luck had turned. Satin always said things came in threes, so it seemed he had one more bad thing to weather before things went his way again. When he could gather himself up and move once more, he went looking for a willow. He’d need the inner bark to relieve the pain. Satin had treated his arm. The old man refused to send anyone down to the fort for a dang fool boy’s broken bone. Izzy didn’t doubt had it been Buster’s arm, things would have been different. He knew how much Pa hated him. Back then, he’d still asked why. Before leaving to the Union Army, he’d stopped asking. Answers weren’t coming. In those days, he was in awe of Satin. He knew she’d nursed him when his mother couldn’t. Her babe, Lace, came a little early, or so the women said. Whatever or however it happened, Satin saved him. When he broke his arm, things changed between him and his mother’s companion and maid, his father’s concubine. Unable to do much, he followed the tall woman with skin the color of good charcoal into the woods when she went “herbing.” He discovered he liked learning about herbs and the things they cured. A good teacher was Mam, he ed all she said. During the war, he’d often been the only doctor his companions had. The medical men had too much to do removing limbs; they didn’t deal with bellyaches and pain.

As much his mother as the one whose body had borne him, Satin raised him. Taught him to soothe those sick or in pain. Human or animal, it was all the same to him. His pain caused him to forget maintaining a sharp lookout. The constant rain lulled him into a state of despondency. That was the only reason Buster caught him—inattention. In the act of hacking a good sized branch from a willow, the words caused him to freeze. “Well, lookie what we have here. It’s a treacherous, piece of shit bluecoat. You recognize him, don’t you, Abel?” “Yep.” Abel had survived; Satin would be glad. Izzy turned slowly, knife in hand. On a horse that looked worse for wear, his brother leaned forward and grinned. “I do declare, I didn’t think to meet you on the Trace. Pa disowned you. What the hell are you bound to Elysian Fields for? Pa said he’s got a bullet with your name on it.” The saddle creaked when Buster shifted his weight. “Leather, Abel, you corral that little bastard. We’ll take him home to Pa as a present.” Both men eased from their saddles. When Abel leaned over to pull Izzy’s hands together to tie him, he whispered, “Don’t worry none. We’ll get you away. But we need ta talk. When Buster gets drunk tonight.” Izzy didn’t respond. If Buster didn’t shoot him before he got plowed, there was a chance he’d get free. “Abel, you get him up on that jughead roan. Leather, find his camp. I’m confiscating everything this traitor owns.” Buster turned his bay away from the creek. “Let’s find a decent place to set up the tent. This rain has me cold to the bone. I want a toddy.” Abel grinned at Izzy and nodded as he helped him into the roan’s saddle. Izzy knew his brother. Buster planned to sit in his tent while the rest of them handled

the rain any way they could. The master planned to get drunk and forget about being wet for a while.

“We’ve got Thor and y’all’s gear. Abel said as he untied Izzy. What y’all going home for, anyway?” Leather held out a plate of beans and bacon to Izzy. “All we got. Ran out of coffee couple days back.” Izzy took a bite of the beans and nodded. “Better than Man Of The Earth. Roots are all I’ve had for a week or more. Y’all wouldn’t have caught up with me, but Thor got a pebble in his hoof.” He took another bite and looked at Abel. “Figured there’s no telling what insanity the old man might get up to when he hears the news. I wanted to get Ma, Mam, and Lace out of there and tell everyone else to skedaddle.” “Where you planning on going?” Leather held out a canteen. “Um...” Izzy waved a hand and swallowed. “California. Maybe Oregon. The hell out of here. The rest would be safe at Fort Gibson.” He watched Abel and Leather exchange glances. The two half-brothers were different as chalk and cheese. Abel took after Turlough, burly. Leather must resemble his sire some, his nose and craggy face almost hawk-like. He might have gotten his height from both parents; Satin was tall for a woman. “We need y’all to do us a favor. We both got women at the home place. We’re only sticking with Junior ‘til we get closer to home. We planned on leaving the night before reaching it.” Abel tossed a pebble from hand to hand. “Un-huh.” Leather held out the canteen again. “Iffen y’all was to get there a day or so ahead, y’all could get the lot spirited away and Buster wouldn’t know what happened.” “We’ve been nearly sick with worry. Buster sent a letter home to the old man. I read the cussed thing before he sent it off right before the last battle.” Abel’s hands formed fists. “Rambled on about losing the place. How tha Yankees would take everything and give it to the slaves.” Izzy almost choked on the bite he had been trying to swallow. “Sweet baby Jesus! That’s liable to make the old coot kill everyone off.”

“What we feared.” Leather sighed. Turlough is crazier than a spider in a bottle of hooch. So, if we let you go, scatter the horses, and swear we didn’t see a thing, it gives you a day maybe. It’ll take us that long to round the stock up.” “He’ll beat the snot out of ya both.” Abel grinned at Izzy. “Catching’s ‘fore hanging, like the horse thief said to the sheriff. If we’re off trying to find the stock, beating the ones doing the wrangling’s a dumb idea.” After scooping up the last bite, Izzy snorted. “Buster ain’t bright. Y’all can draw lots to see who takes the beating. I’ll do what y’all want. Planned to do it anyway. Things went to hell after Thor picked up the rock. Figured I had one more bad one coming after I fell on my right arm. Took a slice in the war, opened the upper arm some.” He shrugged. “Then along comes Buster. Iffen it wasn’t for bad luck; I’d have none at all is what I thought... ‘til I saw you two. Glad to see your ugly mugs. Satin will be pleased as punch.” “We’re happy as hell y’all turned up. We’ll get everyone the hell out of the way.” Izzy sighed. “Praying we beat the damn letter. The way shit went, it may have been delayed. I’ll need to leave Thor with you.” He glanced at the two men in front of him. “Leather, you know the animals. Which horse?” “That roan. We’ve been using him ta pack. He’s got bottom. Old jughead will take ya all the way and then some. Y’all gonna steal the jerky, maybe the hardtack. It’s got weevils, but ya toast the things on a flat rock, bugs add extra meat.” After reaching for the canteen, Izzy took a long drink. “Fellas, I think we have a plan. The bastards are gonna cause trouble again.” They grinned at each other. Leather, five years the oldest, had more lash marks on his back. Abel, two years older than Izzy, had his share, as did Izzy. Only the heir, in his tent, ed out drunk, had escaped the old man’s anger. Rising from the ground, Izzy stretched. “I’d best get to getting. I’ll on the weevils but take the jerky. I’m not planning on stopping ‘cept for short naps when the horse has to rest. I’ll take folk to the fort, but I’m not sticking around. I ain’t scared of Buster, but Ma made me promise not to shed his blood. So it’s on

to the west for this Injun.” Abel nodded. “Feeling the same. Problem is money. I’d follow if my woman agreed and there was money.” “I’m of the same mind,” Leather said. “If that’s it, we Elysian bastards got to stick together.” Izzy loosened his belt and dropped his pants. “Ma gave me this. We don’t meet up at the fort, come looking in California. Abel, give me your knife.” They watched him open the waistband and haul out two gold pieces. Izzy handed one to each of them before pulling his tros back on. “Izzy, we don’t...” “This may be the only thing we ever get out of that damn workhouse the old man ran. I’ve got another for me. That’ll do. The rest of the damn world hates me ‘cause I’m Injun, you ‘cause you’re Negros. Push comes to shove; they hate us all. Ma, Mam, both raised us to look out for each other. We’re all we got.” A few minutes later, he had untied the picket rope which held the horses. Mounted on the roan, he swirled his cap and smacked the other horses on the rump while screaming at them. They took off in different directions as Izzy galloped off down the trail in the pale moonlight.

He rode through the night until the moon set. If he pushed it, he and the horse could be killed. Izzy stopped in a place that appeared to have some forage for the roan. With reins attached to the picket line in his saddlebags, he tied them to his wrist and leaned against a tree. When his eyes closed, he fell asleep. The tugging on his arm woke him from a dream of Lace. Like as not, he was on his way to hell for the way he felt about her now. Things changed for him the year before he left to up. She’d filled out and lost the baby fat and he knew Mam worried what Turlough might do to the girl. Lace spent more time down at Old Nathan’s cabin. When Turlough asked where she was, Ma always said she’d sent the girl off on some errand. When Lace had come into the world, Turlough gave her to his ma and couldn’t quite rescind the gift. Buster got the same look in his eye when he saw the girl. Her face might resemble Satin’s, but her coloring was all Turlough. The old man wasn’t entirely Cherokee since his pa was from Scotland. Izzy never met his paternal grandmother, but Ma told him she was French and Cherokee. That made Lace Cherokee, Scots, French, and Negro, but by the law of the land—a slave. You couldn’t tell by sight. Brown hair with a decided red cast by summer’s end, her skin color, even after a long, hot season, had a golden hue. Hazel eyes that turned green when she got angry, and a slim figure put her in a bad position with the MacCullough men. He wasn’t any different. Izzy wanted her as much as either of them. Thing was, he wouldn’t take her by force. With a sigh, he watered the roan. After a few slugs for himself, Izzy mounted up. Seeing Buster again, and being freed by Abel and Leather, brought back lots of memories he’d forget if allowed. Still, as he rode on, fears for Lace dug at him like a mess of chiggers burrowing under the skin. He tried to bury everything telling himself there wasn’t a thing he could do to change their world other than win the dadburned war and free everyone.

She wasn’t a full blood sister. How much did that matter? To her? To Satin? What would his mother think if he... The clatter of hooves behind him caused bile to rise in his throat. He didn’t see how Buster could have caught up with him. Maybe Abel or Leather... Pounding along the path, the riderless horse came up to him and tossed its head. Thor. “Good to see you, old buddy.” The animal looked sound. With a second mount, he could make better time, as much as his body would allow. Two good things. He was due a third before it all went to the devil again. The race home fell into a nightmare as it had when dashing to or from one battle or another. He felt barely alive. He slept a few hours, changed horses, and rode on. The most sleep he got at night was when the moon set. Even that light would soon be gone as the moon went through its phases. He needed perhaps one more full day from sunup to moonset and he’d be almost there. The plan he’d devised while riding hell-for-leather was leaving the horses back in the woods and coming at the place on foot back toward the summer kitchen. He’d scout things out and see if he could get to either his ma or Satin from the rear part of the house. The exclusive domain of the female house slaves, they wouldn’t give him away. All he had to do was get to one of them and they would take care of sneaking him in from there. He cussed himself out for not finding out the names of Abel’s and Leather’s women. He could have reassured them that both men were alive, unharmed, and on the way home. Rummy, and exhausted, Izzy had to stop for a rest. But he was so close. It wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good to fall off the horse and have Thor wander on home by himself. It would alert the old man and take away the element of surprise. He had to pay attention long enough to find a good place to stop for a few hours. This was his land. Izzy knew these woods. With Abel and Leather, he’d hunted every inch of the forest. He had to come to long enough to think. The day before, toward evening he thought, he’d skirted Tahlequah. He didn’t

want to be seen. His promise to Ma to not spill Buster’s blood never included Turlough. The old man’s actions would decide his fate. Anger provided the clear head he needed. Izzy realized if he changed course and rode over the hill to his left, he’d find Pecan Creek. Home lay downstream a few miles. Thor tossed his head as the roan ambled up beside him. All the water they wanted and fresh graze came in view, along with trees to nap under. A couple of hours, it was all he needed. No way in hell could he approach MacCullough unless awake and ready for trouble. Black sheep didn’t simply wander in and not expect a shearing. He’d be courting trouble and understood how bad it could get. Izzy nearly tumbled out of the saddle. Somehow, he got the roan hobbled and used the picket line to attach Thor to his wrist. The world went black. Thirst and the insistent tugging on his arm woke him. Rolling over, he used both hands and knees to get to a squat. Thor came over to nuzzle him and Izzy made use of the horse to pull himself up to stand. He briefly wondered if he would out. He’d seen it happen to men during the war. They kept moving by force of will alone and collapsed when the army halted. The horse had to follow when Izzy stumbled to the creek. Falling on his knees, he took a deep breath and thrust his head under the cool water. It took two more of the same to revive him. Food would have helped, but he’d run out of jerky the day before. Hunger was the least of his worries, though. Buster behind him came first. With no time to waste, he loosened the roan, gathered up the picket string, and swung up into the saddle. He’d be at the house well before sunset. Every possible way it could go played out in his mind as he approached the flat spot on Pecan Creek where the old man had chosen to build. Implementing his plan to sneak in, Izzy tied the horses on the far side of a knoll. As he eased through the forest, the lack of sound raised his anxiety level. He wasn’t that far away. There should be noise coming from a busy farm. Worse, there wasn’t any smoke rising. Preparation for the evening meal should be under way.

Heart pounding, he stopped trying to be quiet and ran toward the farm, dodging brush and saplings. The sting of branches snapping back against his flesh meant nothing. At the edge of the clearing, he fell to his knees with a groan. Nothing remained standing. All of it had burned. Naked and bruised, the ash-covered ground bore witness to the destruction. Not even a slave cabin remained. The mudbrick chimney had collapsed. The small chapel his mother insisted Turlough build had disintegrated. Swaying as he rose, Izzy looked toward the graveyard. Bile rose from his gut. He swallowed hard to keep from getting sick. With nothing to come up, he’d likely be at it for a while and Buster was behind him. Buster..., when his brother saw this, he’d want vengeance on everything and everyone still living. Three fresh mounds drew his gaze. He knew who they were. Turlough in the middle, Ma on his right, and Mam—Satin—on the left as they’d been in life. Only three. That meant Lace was alive somewhere. Had the neighbors confiscated the slaves? Surely, not. Lace might be at her grandpa’s place. Nathan’s cabin lay far downstream. He had to find her. First, the horses. A little later, he rode through the clearing. The animals’ hooves raised the dust and ash in small clouds. Leading the roan and riding Thor, all exhaustion forgotten, he kicked the animal. Faster, they must go faster. Maybe two miles out from the clearing, he saw the shack Nathan called home. With the largest chimney, the old man swore he couldn’t get warm since they settled here, it looked deserted. He wasn’t taking anything at face value. “Lace!” He called out as he rode up to the small stoop. “Lace. You here?” Izzy pushed off from the saddle and raced up to the door. As he pushed it in, he heard her voice. “Izzy? Oh, thank God!” He looked up at the ladder leading to the attic. In breeches and an old shirt far too big for her, she jumped the last few feet and ran over to throw herself into his

arms. Both arms around his neck, she broke into tears. “It was horrid. Terrible. Did y’all see the...” “I did. Where is everyone?” “Doc Allen took them to Fort Gibson. I couldn’t leave. I knew y’all would come back. There’s so much to say, things we never knew.” “We’ve got to get out of here and soon. Buster is maybe a day behind me, that’s all.” “Buster? Sweet baby Jesus. This is all his fault. That letter he sent the old man set him off. No lousy Yankee was taking his land; they’d taken enough already.” “That’s what Abel said. He feared it would set the old drunk off.” “Y’all can’t begin to guess how bad it got. He set the fire. He’s the reason your ma and mine are dead. Doc Allen said the words over what we could find to bury. But that’s not all of it.” She pulled back and he dropped his arms reluctantly. “Let me get the stuff from upstairs.” She scrambled up the ladder and came back down again with a pillowcase in hand. It appeared heavy. Lace hurried over to the old rickety table and dumped out the contents. Turlough’s money pouch and his mother’s old Bible hit the table. “Mam tossed it to me out the window before he pulled her back in. By then, the roof was on fire, and we knew they’d never make it out.” “How long ago?” He put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “Two weeks, maybe. It hasn’t rained so the ash hasn’t settled yet.” She turned to look at him. Thing is, there’s stuff we never knew about. I’ve been reading. He’s not y’all’s pa.” Lace’s eyes sparkled as tears pooled again. “We’re not blood. Never have been.” “Not?” Izzy had to hold tight to her to keep from falling. “Then, who?” “Doc Allen. Ma played lookout. Kept Pa from catching them. He tried.” She looked down and shook her head. Her free hand stroked the cover of the worn

book. “Y’all’s mam left a letter. I’m glad she taught us to read, else I’d never know.” Lace’s eyes, green now, glowed in the poorly lit cabin. “Told the Lord if y’all came home, I was giving in. Half-sister meant nothin’ to me. I didn’t care anymore.” The laugh that bubbled out of him turned into a sob. “I’d come to the same thing. But we got to get out of here and on to Fort Gibson. That is, if the Rebs never got it.” “They didn’t. We’ll be safe there.” “I don’t plan on staying long. We’re going to pay our respects. Make sure Abel’s and Leather’s women know they’re on the way home and I’m taking the lot of us to California.” He reached for the pouch. “I’ll leave a quarter of this for Buster. He’s gonna share and share alike. I made sure Abel and Leather got theirs. The rest gets parceled out to whoever plans to stay.” Izzy untied the mouth of the pouch and poured out the gold coins. He made a quick count and left a small pile on the rough wood. The rest got scraped back into the sack. “Let’s go, sweetheart. California’s waitin’.” It hurt to have lost both Ma and Mam. He doubted Buster would let be. The heir would probably follow him to the gates of Hell. Sooner or later, he might need to spill his blood, vow, or no. Izzy got Lace up on the roan. She could handle a horse with nothing more than a hackamore. He’d rest up at the fort after he had a talk with his pa, the real one. Finding he wasn’t Turlough’s son was like a purge for the soul. It leached a bunch of garbage out. Freed him. Now to make the most of it if Buster would let him.

Chapter One

“Lace!” His voice filled her grandfather’s cabin. “Lace. You here?” Izzy! He’d come home. The long wait was over. Lace’s heart swelled in her chest. All the things she must tell him clogged her windpipe. The biggest question of all concerned her half-brother, the heir to Elysian Fields. Had Buster survived? The traveling preacher would tell her wishing another’s death would damn her to hell. Damned thrice over, she’d long ago come to with the hate in her soul. Of the two of them, Buster must rate the hottest fires in Hell, along with her pa. The preacher didn’t want to hear about Pa’s hands roaming over her body as they had. Much like a horse trying to evade a bridle, the preacher had turned his head so he wouldn’t see Buster leering at her. Three men she’d asked the Lord to take from the earth. One had reaped his reward if any justice existed in the world—Turlough MacCullough. The man who’d sired her lay buried between the two women who’d learned to hate him. His wife, a fragile beauty with rich dark hair and hazel eyes she’d bequeathed to Izzy, they laid to rest at his right hand. Her mother, Satin, Turlough’s concubine, lay on his left. Lace wanted to bury the women together, as they had been while alive. Bonded in a common hatred of the man who used them, they did their best for their children. Hurrying down the ladder from the attic, she turned when the door flew open. “Izzy? Oh, thank God!” She jumped the last few feet and raced to the arms of the man she’d loved for as long as she had memories. Both arms around his neck, she broke into tears. “It was horrid. Terrible. Did y’all see the...” “I did. Where is everyone?”

“Doc Allen took them to Fort Gibson. I couldn’t leave. I knew y’all would come back. There’s so much to say, things we never knew.” “We’ve got to get out of here and soon. Buster is maybe a day behind me, that’s all.” “Buster? Sweet baby Jesus. This is all his fault. That letter he sent the old man set him off. No lousy Yankee would take his land; they’d stolen enough already.” “That’s what Abel said. He feared it would set the old drunk off.” “Y’all can’t begin to guess how bad it got. He set the fire. He’s the reason your mam and mine are dead. Doc Allen said the words over what we could find to bury. But that’s not all of it.” She pulled back. “Let me get the stuff from upstairs.” She scrambled up the ladder and came back down again with a pillowcase in hand. Lace hurried over to the old, rickety table and dumped out the contents. Turlough’s money pouch and his mother’s old Bible hit the table. “Ma tossed it to me out the window before he pulled her back in. By then, the roof was on fire and we knew they’d never make it out.” “How long ago?” He put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “Two weeks, maybe. It hasn’t rained so the ash hasn’t settled yet.” She turned to look at him. “Thing is, there’s stuff we never knew about. I’ve been reading. He’s not y’all’s pa.” She tried to blink away the tears pooling. Lace didn’t want to cry again. “We’re not blood. Never have been.” “Not?” Izzy’s arms tightened around her. “Then, who?” “Doc Allen. Ma played lookout. Kept Pa from catching them. He tried.” She looked down and shook her head. Her free hand stroked the cover of the worn book. “Y’all’s mam left a letter. I’m glad she taught us to read, else I’d never know.

“Told the Lord if y’all came home, I was giving in. Half-sister meant nothin’ to me. I didn’t care anymore.” The laugh that bubbled out of him turned into a sob. “I’d come to the same thing. But we got to get out of here and on to Fort Gibson. That is, if the Rebs never got it.” “They didn’t. We’ll be safe there.” “I don’t plan on staying long. We’re going to pay our respects. Make sure Abel’s and Leather’s women know they’re on the way home and I’m taking the lot of us to California.” He reached for the pouch. “I’ll leave a quarter of this for Buster. He’s gonna share and share alike. I made sure Abel and Leather got theirs. The rest gets parceled out as fair as we can make it. They worked hard enough over the damn years.” Izzy untied the mouth of the pouch and poured out the gold coins. He made a quick count and left a small pile on the rough wood. The rest got scraped back into the sack. “Let’s go, sweetheart. California’s waitin’.” Lace feared Buster would never let things be. The heir would probably follow them to the gates of Hell. Sooner or later, the other man she hated might need killing, no matter what the preacher said. Izzy got Lace up on the roan. Reins of the hackamore in hand, Lace grinned at him through tears. “I can’t believe y’all made it home in one piece. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Israel MacCullough.” Without waiting for a response, her bare heels kicked the horse in the flanks. Feeling as she thought a prisoner might on being set free, Lace turned the horse toward the trail to Fort Gibson. Knowing Buster was hot on their trail had her wanting to ride through the night. Not possible. A stop for the night would be necessary. The animals would need rest, as would Izzy. The dark skin below his eyes warned her he’d ridden hard to beat Buster to what remained of the estate. Lace prayed Buster was in worse condition. She’d know more when they

stopped and made camp. “Stick to Ranger Creek,” Izzy called out behind her. “It’ll take us to the Neosho and down to Fort Gibson.” Hair streaming around her face, Lace turned to glance back. Still there, flesh and blood, the Union hat pulled down tight on his head, Izzy rode behind her. “We’ll need to stop afore dark.” “Yep. Let’s get as close to the Neosho as we can. I’d be a sight happier if we made it all the way to the river.” She understood what he didn’t say. The more distance the better. Her hands shook when she thought about Buster catching them. Bent over the horse’s neck she urged the animal to run. A slight falter, almost a stumble, had her reining the roan in and she heard the hoof beats behind her slow. Izzy had done the same. They must go easy on the horses. Several miles lay between them and the river. Never having been off the Elysian Fields property before, she looked around eagerly. It would be grand if they could take time to let her explore. If it wasn’t for Buster... Under her breath, she cursed him. Not the way a man might, Lace cursed his offspring up to seven generations, should he have any. It would be better if his loins were barren. She cursed the works of his hands, might they all come to naught. Might the spirit of her dead mother plague him every night of his life so he never had a decent rest. She recanted—if the preacher was right—she might be visiting the same horrors on herself and Izzy. No! No. No matter that they could never marry. Her hair lighter than his, the color of acorns near summer’s end, skin a golden hue, her mother’s slave status gave her the same. Lace had used the four years he was gone to resign herself to being Izzy’s concubine. Any way she could be with him she would take. Truly grateful to God on learning they weren’t blood kin, she put away greed. They pulled up to give the animals a chance to drink from the stream. On finding the canteen Izzy handed her close to empty, Lace slid off the horse and went a few yards upstream to fill it. As she angled the mouth downstream to keep any

debris from entering, she glanced up at him. Izzy hadn’t dismounted. He leaned over his gray gelding, clutching a handful of the black mane. “Iffen I’ve got to tie you to Thor, I will.” To make light of it, Lace chuckled. “Darlin', I think y’all best do so. Just get us to the river.” “But...” “I don’t know if Abel and Leather are still with him. If they are...” He didn’t finish the sentence. She understood her brothers to be some of the best trackers in the territory. “I will. Lord, I’m praying they get clear in one piece.” The canteen dangled from her hand. “Y’all got rope?” “In my saddle bags.” She placed the full canteen on the ground out of Thor’s way and opened the first bag. Rope in hand, Lace moved up to the gelding’s neck, talking softly as she did. “Y’all take good care of him, hear now?” The rope around one wrist, she ducked under Thor’s neck and grabbed the free end. The end in one hand, she reached for his other wrist. His lips found hers before she could finish. Lace leaned into the kiss. Izzy broke away. “That’s gotta hold us for a spell. Get it done and let’s be on our way.” Eyes lowered to keep him from seeing the need in her own, Lace finished securing his wrist. Izzy let his cheek rest on the animal’s gray hide. His eyes closed, he mumbled, “Take us there, darlin'. Go a bit upstream when you get to the river.” “I will.” She stroked her fingers down his face before turning away to mount the roan. She jumped up with her stomach on the roan’s back and wiggled around until she was in position. Walking the horse to Thor, she gathered up his reins. As limp as Izzy looked, Lace decided he had already dozed off. They had several miles to go and not much daylight left to get there. She hated putting both

animals into a trot fearing it would jostle Izzy too much. Several times she glanced back and noted he didn’t seem to be affected. Izzy looked like a gunny sack of potatoes on the back of Thor. Since he didn’t complain, Lace kept moving, fear of being found by Buster the driving motivation.

Chapter Two

As Izzy had instructed, she led Thor a bit north of where Ranger Creek fed into the river. He revived enough to help her dig a hole for the fire with his knife. Herb tea would warm them. They had nothing to eat. Still, he wouldn’t let her go back to Ranger Creek alone to try canoodling for a fish. They had both gone hungry before. Looking at Izzy—the thin frame, hollowed cheeks—it had been a long time since he’d had a decent meal. There was nothing she could do about it now. As soon as the water boiled, she kicked the dirt back over the remaining embers. A smokeless camp under the circumstances was for the best. Both horses grazed the small clearing. Hobbled, they wouldn’t go far. They’d been taken to water. The animals still had on all their gear, the better to make a quick escape. Grazing with a halter and hackamore didn’t bother either gelding. Izzy leaned against a tree and sipped the tea. “Here.” He held out the dented tin cup. “Have some. Then tell me what happened.” She sank to her knees and took a sip. The brew tasted minty. How to tell him? Would it bother Izzy that she didn’t want to bury either woman next to their killer? She’d hinted at the truth when she mentioned Turlough dragging her ma back inside the burning building. He took the cup she held out. “Things weren’t too awful until the letter came. Buster visited the year before and said they were winning.” She shrugged. “Turlough got the letter and all hell broke loose. He got it in his head we were all going to jump him and slit his throat. Poison him, maybe.” “Sorry, darlin’. I hoped by ing up, if the Union won...” “Nothing you could do about it. He’d have shot you on sight.”

“Uh-huh. Knew that. Wasn’t planning on him seeing me. The fire... he get steamed and knock over a lamp?” “Nope.” She glanced down at his worn boots. “We figure he set it. All of us scattered hither and yon. Kept out of his way. He shot up the house first, then came the fire. Maybe he shot your mam before he lit up the place. I’m thinking he did ‘cause Ma kept screaming at him, calling him a murderer. After he pulled her back inside the window, there came a single gunshot. We didn’t hear more after that. Grandpa and Jem got the horses out. Jem rode for help to the fort.” Rising, she paced before him, bare feet kicking leaves. “I didn’t want them buried like that. That damn preacher insisted and y’all’s pa went along with it to keep the peace.” She turned to glare at Izzy. If he wanted to get angry about it, now was the time. “He didn’t deserve to be in the same plot, let alone next to either of them.” His Adam’s apple moved as he tipped his head back and drank the last of the tea. “He’s not my pa. Seems I don’t have one.” Surprised that he latched on to that and didn’t say anything about her attitude, Lace sank to her knees again just out of reach of those long arms. Four years had made a big difference in the Izzy she’d known. He’d grown into his big feet and hands. “Izzy, I don’t think it was like that. He cried over her, Noya. I think it hurt him bad. Standing there—I was next to him—he mumbled something about her not going away with him when he asked.” “Don’t matter none now. All that spilt milk is too far in the ground. All that matters is Turlough ain’t my pa. We’re making it legal soon as I can arrange it.” “You can’t do that. It’s against the law. I’m a slave and—” “And I’m a dirty injun half-breed, no matter who my pa was. Ain’t nobody gonna have a word to say on it.” “Trotter, the lying turd, won’t marry us. He’s a Rebel at heart. A Southern Baptist.” “If he won’t, I’ll ask the commander of the fort. Maybe he’ll authorize the

chaplain to marry us. I sure don’t see any reason why they wouldn’t, not after we won.” “No one will have a thing to do with you, no matter where we go.” The tears wouldn’t be stopped. With everything hazy, she didn’t see him lean forward and grab the hands she wrung. “Woman, when’s the last time y’all looked in a mirror? Your hair is lighter than mine; I get far darker in the sun. You can for white easy.” “What about Abel? He can’t. Leather can’t. Am I supposed to pretend they don’t exist?” “Aw, hell, no. Naw, we can’t do that to them. They freed me after Buster nabbed me back there. You’re right about that and wrong about the rest. I’m marrying you, even if it’s the old Cherokee way. No arguments. Fact is, I don’t have more fight in me.” He pulled her close and flipped her around to nestle between his long legs. “I’m near asleep. Stay here; let me hold you.” “You can’t rest up against a tree.” His laugh warmed her heart. “Sweetheart, you’d be surprised the places I can sleep in. That piece of rope is in my saddle bags so I can tie myself to the horse. You saw it’s the right length?” Strong arms around her, Lace leaned back against his chest. “Darlin, I dreamed of you... this moment.” His words trailed off. Then his arms fell to the side. Lace waited until he lay against the old oak, limp. After easing back to her knees, she moved him away from the rough tree trunk. He didn’t stir as she tugged him down. With him on his side on the cushion of leaves, she curled up next to him. Ma’s voice invaded her thoughts. He’ll do it. Let the man take care of you. Allow yourself to be rescued.

Maybe she could. A lot depended on the reception they got at Fort Gibson and from the Doc. What would his real pa say about his plan to marry her? When she tried to ponder the question, her tired body wouldn’t cooperate. Lace fell asleep next to Izzy.

Chapter Three

The forest around them began to come awake. Another day with a few more miles to go. Would he ever get a decent night’s sleep in a bed again? Feather ticking wasn’t necessary. He’d take a few blankets under him and be happy if the pallet held Lace. Somehow during the night, they had curled up together on the leaves beneath the oak. Not the most comfortable of beds, he’d been too exhausted to notice. Small lumps beneath him must be old acorns dropped last fall. The slight rise and fall of Lace’s chest told him she still slept. He didn’t want to wake her. Then again, if he could kiss her awake... An enterprise fraught with possible consequences he shouldn’t incite. Not only because it would make them late getting on the trail, but because he wanted more. They deserved more. Even if the preacher refused to marry them, he meant to make sure things were done properly somehow. With Buster taking over what remained of Elysian Fields, staying in Cherokee Nation meant sooner or later Buster would kill him. It didn’t matter that the property should be divided evenly between Noya’s sons. After all, it belonged to his mother in the first place. Another thing which had bothered Turlough to no end. Unlike white society, Cherokee women owned their property and no non-Cherokee could take it away from her or her children. Turlough couldn’t shed himself of an unwanted woman and take control. Another white man had tried and found himself tossed out with nothing. Buster had no legal right to keep the estate for himself, no right to take everything away from his brother no matter who fathered him. True, the laws made by the council were designed to keep slave blood from tainting the tribe’s bloodline. As far as Izzy knew, Doc didn’t have any Negro blood. Not that it mattered to him, nor his mother it seemed. Since the Union won the war and the slaves would be freed, Lace couldn’t be declared property any longer. That should be enough to allow them to marry. Still, they had to leave. Izzy could see no reason for them to stay. The eventual

confrontation with Buster would take place if he tried to bring his case to the Cherokee Nation’s council. Raised by Turlough to be the heir, Buster would feel it his duty to eliminate the competition. Declaring him a traitor for fighting with the Army of the North would give Buster the reason he needed. Lace stretched in his arms. He felt she would wake soon. With nothing to cook, getting back on the trail would be a simple matter of watering the horses and mounting up. When they reached Fort Gibson, he would find the doctor first. Doc Allen would know where his people were. The lot of them, all eight, were free now, but would still need things. He hoped the doctor had fed them. At least provided them a means to buy what they needed. Izzy reasoned the sale of the horses should have given them something to live on. With everything in ashes at Elysian Fields, there was no good reason to keep the horses. She turned in his hold. Izzy put his head on one hand and smiled down at the woman. “Morning, darlin’. Sleep well?” “Y’all are joshing me.” She giggled. Leastwise nothing snuck up in the night and took a bite.” The smile faded and her eyes filled. “Izzy, waking next to y’all is the best way to start the day. I never thought I’d live to see it.” “Me either, darlin’. I’d love to spend the day lollygagging around with you, but we can’t.” She reached up to stroke his cheek. “Yep. But this is so grand.” He grabbed her hand and kissed each fingertip. “True. But we need to get to the fort so we can eat. My stomach is trying to gnaw its way out through my backbone.” A giggle, the one he hoped to hear, accompanied her rolling away and rising. Lace held out a hand to help him up. “Then we’d best get a move on.” “Indeed.” Izzy draped an arm over her shoulder. Lace’s hand came up and warm fingers caressed his hand where it lay just above her breast. After their mutual disclosure of long-buried feelings, he hadn’t been sure what might change between them.

So far, nothing much. Their easy way together remained. He hoped that never changed. The resistance she’d put up over his insistence they marry could well boil to the surface. He didn’t care. They would wed, devil take the hindmost. All those laws, the ones made to keep the races apart, shouldn’t matter a lick. Izzy had to let her go when they reached the horses. His hand stroked her head as she pulled away to catch up the roan. “Watcha gonna call him?” Izzy asked as he squatted to take off Thor’s hobbles. “He doesn’t have a name?” Lace started walking the animal toward the river. “Nope.” Thor fell in beside the roan. The two animals ambled along side by side, both dark tails swishing. “Since he’s yours now, he needs a name.” “Mine? Goodness, Izzy. He’s a fine beast.” The note of surprise in her tone caused him to smile. He knew of her desire to own an animal. There wasn’t much he didn’t know about the girl. No, the woman whose head he could see only the top of over the back of the horse. Mam broke the law by teaching her people to read and write. He would keep the family tradition alive by making her his wife. They watered the horses. ed a canteen between them and mounted up. She giggled again when he took a liberty and gave her backside a little pat before helping her on the animal’s back. Izzy swung into the saddle and gathered up the reins. “So, you gonna keep calling him the roan, or what?” “I’m thinking on it.” Lace leaned forward to stroke the muscular neck of the horse as Izzy walked Thor forward to take the lead. “Can’t be that hard.” Single file, they walked their mounts down the trail skirting the river. As the light increased and a new day began, Izzy listened to the forest. All sounded as it should. Birds chirped, insects buzzed, and the river flowed past on its way to the Arkansas a short distance past where Fort Gibson and the

town it spawned stood. There, the people he felt responsible for would be waiting. A sprinkling of destitute Indians and free Blacks hung around the fringes of the fort. Occasionally, the Army handed out food to the poor souls. How had the small cadre fared when the Rebels had control of the fort? All of it was the biggest pile of steaming shit he’d ever encountered. The war had everything to do with power, that of the White man over everyone else. “Izzy?” “What? You see something?” He swiveled in the saddle. Had he missed a sign? “I’ve thought of a name for him.” Thank the Lord that’s all she’s thinking about. Not in any condition to fight off Buster, who seemed to have had a much easier time in the war, he didn’t want to meet the man until he had more rest and a belly full of something. “What’d y’all decide on, darlin’?” “Redbone. He’s sturdy and I love the color of his hide. Such a deep red.” “That’s appropriate, sugar. Suits him well. Now, we’re close to the mouth of Ranger Creek. Look sharp. I don’t want to tangle with Buster.” Not yet, Izzy added to himself. He thought about the promise he’d made. Mam had been sly about how she worded it. “Don’t spill your brother’s blood.” That eliminated wounding him. Izzy sighed. He’d bet anything he had she’d made Buster swear the same. Problem was, Buster had no honor. Once he saw the state of Elysian Fields, his brother’s anger would take over. To Buster’s way of looking at things, as the heir, he made the rules. It was too bad his ma hadn’t had a daughter. That would have spiked Buster’s guns since everything in the Cherokee Nation went through the female line. They approached the mouth of the creek making as little sound as possible. Izzy held up a hand for Lace to hold where she was. He eased his way to the ground, handed the reins to Lace, and went on a scouting mission.

When he returned without seeing anything untoward, he mounted Thor again and they crossed the creek and made for the fort. They needed food. First, though, came making sure they were prepared for Buster when he appeared.

Chapter Four

They stole away as his miserable brother had. Half-brother, maybe. Since Pa wasn’t sure, he couldn’t be either. Didn’t matter much since Izzy saw fit to go put on blue and fight for the other side. Traitors were shot on sight—which he should have done and didn’t. The urge to parade his catch in front of the old man and Lace had led him to do something he regretted. He’d wanted to see their faces—Lace, Ma, and Pa— when he executed Izzy. Foolish on his part. He shouldn’t have gambled on that when he had him right there. One of the boys, might have been both, released Izzy. He laid it on Abel with a stick. Thinking about the way Abel, his half-brother for sure, turned and stared at him chilled his anger. He hadn’t bothered with Leather because that boy had to find the horses, which hadn’t happened. They had supposedly gone out hunting the scattered stock, but they never returned. He had to comb the brush for the horses on his own. Not finding them, Buster began walking home. Damn sorry state of affairs. When he got to Elysian Fields, he might help Pa kill the lot off. Not all, come to think of it. Useless trash, if they wouldn’t work for their keep, they might as well all be dead... except for Lace. He could use her to clean the house, wait on him, and maybe warm his bed. Probably wouldn’t happen now, though. Izzy had her. Buster would bet his half of the estate on it. What he intended to do was get her back from Israel. No one would give a rat’s ass about one little female. Together, he and Pa could figure out a plausible reason for doing Izzy in. The bastard stole something. That would work. With no daughters or aunts that he knew about, the property would all go to him.

Walking home, carrying as little as possible, helped him sweat the alcohol from his body. Since learning they’d lost, he knew everything they had was in jeopardy and he’d been drinking entirely too much. Buster understood what drinking caused. He watched his pa deteriorate over the years as frustration with a useless wife and a second son, which might or might not be his, drove him deeper into drink. Years ago, he’d decided that fate wasn’t for him. The old man knew what the laws were in the Cherokee Nation when he married her. The property, the slaves, every stick of wood and blade of grass was hers. The Nation did have power when it came to inheritance and protecting the bloodline by protecting the women. Since they discovered white men trying to take over by marrying into the tribe, they had enacted laws to prevent what Pa had in mind. Worse, they enforced what they enacted. Several men had discovered the council had teeth and would punish those who failed to understand. Unlike the old man, he held valid hip in the tribe. With no female relatives to inherit, he and Izzy were heirs. Splitting everything two ways wouldn’t do anyone any good. It took the whole property to make a decent living. At noon, he stopped long enough to fill his canteen from Pecan Creek. Beginning to recognize the terrain, Buster figured he would be home by midafternoon. Not more than two days behind the treacherous lot of them, he’d eat then. After eating, it would be payback time for Leather and Abel, if those two were still around. If not, he knew where they could be found. With no money, they only had one place they could go—Fort Gibson. Once he had a horse again, he could scout out the enclave where the destitute or drunkards had hovels close to the fort. When he found them, he’d put his mind to revenge. He could take his time. Buster recognized his favorite fishing hole and smiled. Not far now. Odd. He didn’t see any smoke from the house. By now, the slaves... Oh, had they all run off? He supposed they could have once either Izzy, Abel, or Leather told them

they were free. They—he and the other officers—had talked about it before he left. Buster didn’t feel it necessary to wait around for the ultimate surrender. He had to get home. The ungrateful wretches didn’t know when they had it good. Their own people had sold them into slavery. They were the very dregs of their society. Knowing that, how could one not watch slaves closely? His... well, his mother’s had been treated well. He and Pa knew she taught them to read and write when it could well have brought them a world of trouble. They ate decent, didn’t live in hovels, and were treated like family. Children, yes, because regardless of what the abolitionist said, they weren’t as intelligent. They needed to be disciplined to keep them from doing stupid things. The nonsense spouted about how they were only a different color and everyone bled the same didn’t wash. If you cut a dog, it bled as people did and was still a dog. Like children, they had to work to help the family. He kicked a rock, sending it flying off into the creek. Ahead, the trees thinned out. Buster looked for the house through the edge of the forest. Nothing. He broke into a run as panic gripped him. Where was his home? Breaking through the last of the brush and trees, he came to a halt. Tremors shook him as he looked around the clearing where the house and outbuildings should be. The mud bricks of the chimney lay in a pile amid bits of charred wood and ash. A strange sound filled the clearing. He took several more stumbling steps toward the debris pile that had been the house. Buster clapped a hand over his mouth when he realized the moans came from him. As if drawn by some force, he turned toward the place where the chapel should have been. The same as the house, ash and burned timbers. He stumbled toward the fresh mounds in the graveyard. Three piles of earth. The larger one in the middle, he guessed must be Pa. On either side, his women. Even without headstones, he knew who lay in the dark ground. They would have put Ma, his lawful wife, on the right hand and Satin on the left. Buster fell to his knees and howled. “I wasn’t in time. The bastards, raggedyassed slaves, rose against them. Y’all will pay. I’ll kill the miserable lot!”

Chapter Five

The palisades of the fort came in view. It hadn’t taken long to get downriver. Izzy had said it wouldn’t. He’d simply been too tired to go the remaining few miles last night. Exhaustion had taken over. She eyed him and decided he didn’t look a lot better. Still, he’d gotten up and mounted Thor without having to be tied on the horse. She counted that as an improvement. Neither of them said much as they rode along the river. She didn’t know what Izzy had on his mind. A good guess would be questions about his mother’s relationship with the doctor. Why had the woman stayed with Turlough when she could have asked the council to toss him out on his ear? It might have had something to do with Izzy. He wouldn’t want to hear that. No more than she wanted to hear he meant to marry her, no matter what. There were penalties for intermarriage. Maybe the Union had won the war, but Lace failed to see how that would help them out in the Cherokee Nation. Slaves would still have the same color skin. With a sigh, she thought about his assertion that she could easily for white. Her brothers couldn’t. Leather, far darker than Abel, would be hurt the worst if she were to turn against them. Oh, he would understand. They all would. Still, how could they keep from being resentful? She didn’t want to lose her family, which is what would happen should she choose to try ing. It did niggle at her, the possibility of never having to bow and scrape again. A big temptation, his words burrowed their way into her soul. Lace continually tried to counter them with a resounding no. He hadn’t ridden the idea into the ground, so she hoped he’d never mention it again. She had to stop thinking about it. “Yonder’s the fort. Are we going to town first and get something to eat? Oh, drat and blast it! How are you going to do anything without showing the gold? It’s not safe to let anyone know what you

have.” Izzy turned in the saddle to glance at her. “Being hungry a little longer all right with you? If it is, let’s go see Doc Allen first. I reckon he’ll help if I ask.” “Yep. I agree. He said to tell you he’s at your disposal. That means he’ll give y’all a hand if needed?” “That’s what it means, darlin’. I wasn’t sure I’d ask for his help; seems as if I’ve no choice.” It sat on the tip of her tongue to ask why he might not want his real father’s help. Thinking better of saying something, Lace tried to work it out on her own. Was he angry with the doctor for not taking his mam out of the situation? It seemed to her if Noya hadn’t asked, there wasn’t much the Doc could do. Noya hadn’t been healthy since Buster’s birth, according to Ma. Birthing Izzy hadn’t helped her health. Lace knew that because Ma nursed her and Izzy both as babes. Noya hadn’t enough milk to feed him properly. Ma said it was a miracle from God that Izzy’s screams brought her milk down when she had another month at least before Lace’s birth. It hadn’t been near as much as it should have been, at first. After two days of a half-starved infant’s cries, Ma’s milk came in strong enough for them both. She always said nursing them together had forged the bond between her and Izzy. They finished each other’s sentences, spoke the other’s thoughts. Two peas in a pod said the rest of the world. It was the reason Noya often asked her how he was during those four years. Was he alive? Injured? Lace knew he would come back for them. Her, Noya, Ma, if it were possible. And he had. As they approached the fort, Izzy dropped back to ride beside her. “Looks like there are a bunch of men bivouacked over there. There’re wearing blue. That’s a good sign.” “It is. Where is Doc Allen’s place?” “South of the fort, more or less. On Main, close to the livery.”

“While y’all talk with Doc Allen, how about I ride the other side of town and see if I can find our folk. I’m anxious about everyone.” “Darlin’, those men on the hill, they’re a rough bunch of soldiers. No telling how long it’s been since they had a woman. Y’all running around without a man close to hand isn’t smart. I know what they’re like, having been one just lately.” “Were y’all... did y’all? Well... with a woman?” “Lace, we weren’t declared.” Izzy turned his head and hazel eyes watched for her reaction. “I didn’t know from one day to the next if I’d survive, wind up wounded and get something amputated. If the Rebs captured me, who knew if they’d take me prisoner or just shoot me and have done with it. There were women, I’ll not lie. Every one of which came to me willingly. Other men weren’t so fastidious about how they came by company. That’s why y’all are gonna stick with me. Understood?” Unsure what to say, she nodded. She might ask questions later. They came to the street named Main and walked the horses past the livery. Reaching the house where the doctor practiced his craft, Izzy dismounted and turned to help her down. They tied the horses to the post and walked up to the porch. Before Izzy could knock, the door flew open. “Izzy!” The tall, spare man with a trimmed beard and mustache wore a huge smile as he reached for Izzy. When Izzy stepped back, the man dropped his arms. For a moment, they stared at each other. Hoping to break the tension, Lace slid past Izzy and reached for Doc Allen. She gripped his hands. “How is everyone? Did Grandpa have any trouble? Can you tell me where to find them?” Hazel eyes, much like Izzy’s in shape and color, took her in. “Everyone is fine. You look well. Izzy made it back before Buster.” It wasn’t a question. She nodded. “I want to go see them, but Izzy says I have to wait for him.”

“He’s right. There are a lot of shady characters running around here. Pretty girl such as yourself is a temptation someone might not be able to resist.” He glanced past her at Izzy. “Why don’t you both come inside? I’ve got some tea in the root cellar. It’s not cold, but a sight cooler then if it sat in the kitchen.” He moved to the side and held the door open. “Thanks, Doc. We need to talk. Tea would be appreciated,” Izzy said, as he stepped into the parlor. “If you tell Lace where to look for the tea, she can take care of it.” Izzy meant to have a private conversation with his pa. Lace twisted her fingers together to try and keep from becoming agitated. They might need the doctor’s help, so Izzy needed to keep a cool head. Fearing anything she said might be misconstrued, she waited to see what they wanted her to do.

Chapter Six

“Lace, honey, the door to the root cellar is in the kitchen. You can’t miss it. There’s a pitcher on the shelf as you reach the bottom stair. Leave the door open and you can see it. If you bring us a couple of glasses, you can have yours at the kitchen table.” Doc Allen pointed down the hall. Izzy watched her turn away and walk toward the kitchen. Before she opened the door, the girl turned to glance at the doctor then him, a frown marring her forehead. Lace was worried about leaving them alone. He lifted his chin at her. With a sigh, she opened the door. The snick of a lock had him turning to watch the doctor open his surgery. Izzy guessed they would talk in the office behind it. They walked past the narrow bed and table on casters. The room had two big windows for light. A hanging lamp over the bed would be used at night. A tidy setup, he’d never found himself on the cot. The doc came to him the time he broke his arm. Inside the office, Doc Allen took one of the two chairs that waited before the roll-top desk turned sideways so the doctor could talk with patients. Izzy took the other after pulling it back a few inches. One leg crossed over the other, Izzy stared at his father. “I gather Lace told you.” Doc Allen placed his hands together in his lap. Lips a straight line, he watched Izzy. “Yep. Why?” “Why didn’t I convince her to toss his ass out and let me move in? Or why didn’t she tell you?” “Both, I suppose.” “I’ve always assumed she meant to tell you, but kept putting it off for fear of what Turlough would do.” The other man shifted position, put both hands on his knees, and leaned forward. “The answer to the first question is she wouldn’t let

me do a damn thing. I suspect that had to do with Buster. Turlough couldn’t legitimately take Buster from her. She feared if Turlough asked, though, Buster would’ve gone with him.” A bump on the door, near the bottom, alerted Izzy to Lace’s presence just outside. He rose and took the two glasses from her. Deep worry lines traversed her forehead. Izzy smiled down at her. “Stop worrying yourself into a tizzy.” He nodded to the doctor behind him. “He’s not Turlough and I’m not Buster.” “Thank God. I’ll get the door.” She reached for the knob and he took a step back into the room. As she shut the door, he turned and held out the second glass to his father. “Yes, thank God.” The doctor’s gaze never wavered as he took a drink of the tea. “Turlough had no control and he allowed Buster to grow up with no governor on his emotions.” “While I, on the other hand had to learn to watch everything I did. I know how to manage myself.” He took a sip of the tea. “Speaking of Buster, he’s on his way. I’d guess maybe a day or two behind me. It depends on when Abel and Leather deserted.” “I wish no man harm, but I caught myself hoping Buster didn’t return or at least learned something during the war. Enough to take the edge off.” Doc Allen grimaced. “You were the one I really worried about.” He turned and put the glass on the desk. “When the fire happened... I wanted to hurt Turlough when I discovered what he’d done. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about moving on, somewhere far from here. Back east maybe, or home to Canada.” “Why didn’t you?” “She needed me. The medicine, she needed it on a regular basis. Her heart wasn’t good after...” “After me? I know she got sicker after I came along. Ma, Satin, told me about it. One of us making her life hell was enough. I wasn’t a prize in the child department, but I didn’t take advantage as Buster had a habit of doing. Ma made

sure I knew.” “Satin was a good nurse and a staunch ally. The time we had together was due to Satin making sure it happened. She said one of them had a right to some happiness.” Izzy took another drink of the lukewarm tea. “She hated Turlough. After he sold Juda, I think she didn’t poison him or stab him because of what Buster might do to Lace.” “I must confess, I don’t understand how a man could take advantage of his halfsister, of any woman, and claim it doesn’t matter because she is property, a slave. I don’t believe Buster got his hands on her, but Turlough tried.” “Y’all have a firm sense of right and wrong, Doc. I’ve seen what men and women can do, then turn around, justify their actions and go on as if nothing happened.” “Son, I suppose you have. This has been a nasty war, kin fighting kin and all for the sake of profit from free labor.” The doctor lifted a finger when Izzy opened his mouth. “You are my son. That’s the God’s honest truth. It no longer matters to me who knows it. Don’t bother telling me to be silent.” His stomach made noise. The doctor shook his head. “When did you eat last?” He stood. “You’re mostly skin and bones, no need to answer. I’ll wager it’s been a long time since you had a decent meal. Come into the kitchen. Let’s get you fed.” Izzy put a hand on his arm. “Before we go in there, I need to say a few things. Lace is giving me grief over the first one. I’m marrying her. That’s something I don’t give a hang if anyone knows. Slaves are free now. That leaves me free to marry the woman. Second is, Mam did worry about me and Buster getting along. She made me swear not to spill his blood. To my mind, it means I can’t kill nor beat the tar out of him. I’ll take whoever wants to go with us, but Lace and I are headed for California. Probably tomorrow morning.” “Makes sense. If you give me two days, I’ll have this packed and ready to go.” “Why would you leave your life here?”

His father shrugged. “She’s not here to keep me. You’re all I have left of her. I’m ready to quit this place.” “Well, y’all surprised the hell out of me. I wasn’t expecting y’all to pull up stakes and move on.” “I’ve been ready since the day we buried her. Hated like hell putting her next to that devil, but didn’t have much choice. That fire and brimstone preacher, he followed Jem and me out there when he heard the news. I barely got him to agree to bury Satin in the graveyard. Bastard whined about putting her down in holy ground. He’s one to watch out for. I’ve heard some talk about Satin starting the fire. Turlough did.” “But the preacher would rather blame her than it what a white man did.” “Yep, which means Buster is going to jump on that bandwagon.” “All the more reason for us to light out of here as fast as possible.” The doctor strode to the door and pulled it open. “I’d guess you’re not planning on taking a wagon. You may need to rethink that. Old Joe isn’t up to riding. Tansy and Leather’s son is less than a year old and Sal is recovering from a pregnancy that went all wrong. She’s still a bit fragile. And you still need to convince them to go along with you. I’ll contribute the wagon. It will allow me to take things I’d otherwise need to leave behind.” Izzy took his hat off and smacked it across his thigh. It wouldn’t be as easy as he hoped. Behind him, the doctor sighed. “Damn Turlough all to hell and gone. If there’s any justice, he’s roasting in Hell right now with Noya and Satin watching from Heaven.” He didn’t bother responding as he walked into the kitchen.

Chapter Seven

At least they weren’t shouting. Lace sighed as she sat at the kitchen table, staring out the window. She understood Izzy’s need to see his father before doing anything else. Getting something to eat would be next. The man’s stomach must have shrunk to the size of one of Noya’s fancy teacups. There’d been a time or two when Turlough withheld food from them, claiming they needed to fast. It never happened for more than a day or two before Noya found out and took him to task. No one mentioned the pots of greens stewed down at Grandpa Joe’s old cabin. If Abel, Leather, or Izzy bagged a squirrel or rabbit, it went into the pot. Everyone got some. Twelve slaves, a moderate amount given what some owned, couldn’t have posed too big a burden. Turlough carried on as if they were the laziest people in all creation. Noya paid him no mind. They were her people, and the woman endured many a raving argument over how they were treated. The only reason he managed to get shed of Juda was through trickery. Noya retired Grandpa Joe to the cabin and refused to work or sell him after Turlough sold off Juda. In truth, it gave them a place to hide out when one of them had incensed the master past reason. Or, in her case, became too great a temptation. Lace wondered if anyone would find the hidden room. She hoped they would be long gone before that happened. The trap door in the loft next to the big stone chimney for the fireplace wasn’t easy to find. The chimney on that side had a false wall. A ladder inside led down to the room in the root cellar. Three feet of soil separated the hidden room from the earthen hole beneath the cabin where Joe kept vegetables. Someone looking for a hidey hole wouldn’t find one in the cellar. It could only be accessed from the loft. She’d hidden in it while waiting for Izzy. Footsteps had her straightening in the chair. Izzy came in first and took a seat

next to her. “Y’all work your differences out?” With a nod, Izzy wound his little finger around hers. “Yep. Doc wants to journey with us to California.” Her eyes snapped to the man entering the kitchen. She watched him light a lantern and go down the cellar steps. Lace turned to Izzy. “What’s he doing that for?” “Says he’s got no more reason to stay in Fort Gibson. Makes sense to me.” The doctor came up the stairs with a sack. He put out the lantern and hung it back on the nail beside the door. “I’ve got venison roast here, boiled potatoes, and bread. How about some slabs of meat on bread? That should fill your bellies. The potatoes aren’t hot, but I could get a cook fire going and slice them into the pan.” Lace rose. “Here let me. Y’all have the fixings, I’ll do the work. If there’s any coals in the firebox left from this morning, I’ll just pop them in there. Y’all got a housekeeper?” Doctor Allen took the seat at Izzy’s left. “I do.” “What’s she gonna do when y’all up and leave?” She found the firebox devoid of coals to heat the potatoes, so started a fire using material from the tinder bucket. If she took the cast iron plate from the cooktop, the pan would heat quickly. A little flame was all she needed. “I’m not the only one she works for. She’ll be fine. Now, about you two getting married...” The skillet rang when she slammed it down on the top of the cookstove. “We can’t. Lord knows we’ve enough against us now.” “We are.” Izzy’s tone held anger. Lace took a quick glance at him. Hat on the table at his right hand, Izzy glared at her.

The doctor nodded. “I fully understand your reticence, but I have a suggestion. Reverend Trotter isn’t going to accommodate you. But I think if we have a quiet ceremony here, the fort’s chaplain would be willing to officiate. He can write it in Noya’s bible Satin tossed to you.” With the potatoes sliced into the pan along with a dipper of bacon grease from the container at the back of the cooking top, Lace took a moment to carve slices of roast from the t. “Why would he do that and risk getting into trouble with the council?” “He owes me a favor and he’s not from here. Chaplain Michaels is going back to New England as soon as he’s released from duty. The Cherokee Council’s laws won’t mean anything to him. If we keep it just between us, I think he’ll help you.” He paused before asking, “Don’t you want to marry my son?” She scooped the potatoes from the pan and slapped three pieces of bread into the sizzling grease. No one said a word as she filled plates, flipped the fried bread on each one and added a slice of roast. That done, Lace placed the plates on the table. Hands on her hips, she glowered at the men. “I want the money sitting in the bank. That don’t mean I’ll get it. Mostly, folks like me don’t get what they want, leastwise what they need.” The doctor scraped the food from his plate to Izzy’s. “Sit, Lace. Eat. But if this is something you want, I think we can get it done. If there’s no record of it anywhere but in the Bible, he can’t be disciplined for performing a marriage between a Cherokee and a Negro. But it will be in front of God.” He stood and took the dirty dish to the washtub beside the stove. “My only question is, do you truly want to marry Izzy?” Her fork wobbled and she dropped it back down on the plate. Izzy reached for her hand. “I’ll stop pushing if y’all don’t want to marry...” “Oh, hush! I want it more than I want my next breath. That don’t mean I want to see y’all hurt. I don’t want our children to suffer for my actions.”

The doctor turned and his hands went on her shoulders. “Then I’ll help you. You won’t be living in Cherokee Nation, so there’s nothing to worry about.” Not used to arguing with the doctor, Lace stared at her plate. She should eat, at least finish the meat. This might be her last meal for a long time. Arguing with Izzy seemed to be a lost cause. Not one to beat a dead horse, Lace nodded. “If y’all say so.” She cut a bite of the roast, then eyed the doctor. “I need to see if everyone is well.” After a quick pat on the shoulder, Doc Allen sat again. “Eat up and as soon as you finish, I’ll take you to them. While you explain things, I’ve got errands to run. We can meet back here at sunset.” He studied Izzy’s face. Lace understood. The man didn’t know his son as well as he wished. Izzy, a grown man now wouldn’t take being ordered around well. They had to find a balance. Noya’s keeping them apart hadn’t helped. She wished Noya was alive. Lace had many questions she’d like answers to. It wasn’t only what she could learn. Ma and Noya hadn’t had the best of lives. Izzy wanted to improve things for them all. Too bad neither woman would have a chance to live out their last years in peace. After forcing the last bites down, she rose to put her dish in the tub. When Izzy’s empty plate ed hers, Doc Allen pushed his chair from the table. “I know that probably didn’t make much of a dent in your empty belly, but it’s best to go easy. I’ll have Ida make a big meal tonight. It’ll be ready when you get back. Let me get my horse and I’ll meet you out front.” Outside, Izzy boosted her up on Redbone. Standing beside the horse, he patted her leg. “Don’t fret. Everything will work out. Trust me. I’ve been thinking about this for the last four years.” “I trust y’all. It’s the rest of the world that bothers me. I don’t see how it can all change in a few days. People can be mean and cruel, set in their ways. President Lincoln can’t wave a hand and make that change.” “True. But we’re going to do what we can to help that along.” She prayed he had it figured out. One thing was sure, they couldn’t stay where

they were.

Chapter Eight

They skirted the area where those with nowhere else to go had erected hovels of brush and whatever else could be found. Away from the small settlement, close to the river, stood four tents. Izzy understood Doc Allen must have provided them for their people. A fire pit with a big pot suspended from a wooden tripod sat before the tents. Lengths of cut logs lay around to be used as seats. The tents were good. One less thing for them to somehow acquire. The money would go further than he first thought. They would need every penny to get clear and find a home elsewhere. He hoped for California, but wasn’t sure they had enough to get that far. Turning his head, he stared at the doctor. How much would his father help him if asked? Would it matter to Doc Allen that he wanted to rescue slaves? The color of their skin didn’t matter to him; they were his family. They had watched over him since the day of his birth. He, Abel, and Leather were the ‘bastards’ of Elysian Fields. That’s what Turlough had called them singularly and together. The other two bastards were behind him. He hoped not more than a day. Had they managed to thwart Buster somehow? He hoped so. As they rode up, a woman tending to something in the big kettle lifted a hand to her eyes to see better. Izzy recognized her and a grin lifted the corners of his mouth. Big Louann pulled the stirring stick from the pot and took several paces toward them. “Lace, Doc. Praise Jesus, is that Izzy?” He spurred Thor forward and came to a sliding halt in front of her. He jumped from the saddle and threw both arms around the woman who had been their cook. “Big Lou, sure is a pleasure to see you. Sorry I couldn’t get home in time to stop him...”

Stick still in hand, she gave him a rib-cracking hug. “Hush, baby. Y’all are here now. What y’all know about Buster, Abel, and Leather? Tansy and Sal been right worried about those two.” She released him and cupped his cheek with her free hand. “Y’all been there, seen it?” “I have. I’ve news of Abel and Leather. They should be a day behind me. Worse, so is Buster.” Her dark skin seemed to go gray. “That one is gonna have a conniption when he sees what his pa done.” Izzy swept his hat from his head. “I reckon he will. But I’ve got a plan. Where is everyone else?” “Hither and yon, trying to scare up more to put in the pot. Doc there,”—she nodded at the pair behind him—“he sold the horses and got us tents. We’ve got flour, sugar, and salt. Old Joe and Jem are down at the river, fishing. Little Lou and Dogger set out snares. They’re checking them. I ‘spect they’ll be back before the sun is halfway down.” “What of Tansy and Sal?” “Those two are looking for firewood. I figure they’ll return soon. Lord have mercy, it’s good to see y’all. Y’all done grown into a man since y’all been gone.” She danced backward. “I forgot myself. I need to keep stirring this. Can’t let it burn.” “As if y’all ever let anything burn. Y’all need anything? More water from the river?” “Nope. Jem and Old Joe have the other kettle. They’ll bring it along.” Big Lou looked at Lace when she slid off the back of the roan. She threw an arm over Lace’s shoulder and hugged her hard. “We been worried about you. Feared Buster might cross your trail.” “If Izzy hadn’t showed up when he did, I was about ready to come looking.” Lace reached for Thor’s reins. “I’ll hobble them out since we’re waiting here.”

“Izzy, Lace, I’ll be on my way. Don’t forget, my house at sundown,” Doc Allen called out from his horse. “We’ll be there,” Izzy said. The doctor reined his mount around and trotted away. Big Lou turned to Izzy. “Don’t know what we would have done without him.” A frown creased her face. “That Trotter man, one calling himself a preacher, wants to make trouble. He’s put it around that we”—she waved a hand at the tents —“caused the fire. If not for Doc taking our side... we might be in the cold ground.” Izzy rubbed her shoulder. “We’re not staying here. Can’t anyway, what with Buster after my hide.” “True. You gonna wait for the rest to tell us what you got in mind?” Big Lou asked. “That’s the plan. Then we can talk about it and see how everyone feels.”

The wives of Abel and Leather got back first as Big Lou predicted. They hopped around, yelling for joy, when Izzy told them both men couldn’t be more than a day behind. He put them off when it came to answering more questions. He didn’t want to go through it more than once. Dogger and Little Lou didn’t find anything in their snares, but did have a sack of fresh greens to add to the pot. Old Joe and Jem returned last of all with one fish. Cleaned, it went into the stew. When offered some of the food, he and Lace declined. They would eat with Doc Allen, which left more for everyone else. Lace sat on the dirt next to Grandpa Joe. Not her real grandfather, he’d assumed the role when Juda and Satin first became lovers since he was Juda’s father. He never relinquished the role. She leaned back against his legs and Joe’s free hand stroked her head. Izzy understood he’d need to win Old Joe over to his plan first. If Joe agreed, the others would come along. They respected his opinion. Joe sipped at the liquid in the broken cup he held. Having lost most of his teeth, Big Lou made sure he got something he could eat. “Y’all saw the place?” With a nod, Izzy answered, “I did. It’s a right mess. Sparks from the house must have jumped to the outbuildings.” “Yup.” The old man drained the cup and Big Lou stepped forward to refill it. “Thank ye,” Joe murmured before taking it in his left hand. His gaze leveled on Izzy again. He patted Lace’s head. “This one tell you about the doc?” “She did. I went to see him first to make sure.” “Good, good. These two...” He waved a hand in the air. “Tandy and Sal say the boys aren’t far behind you. How come they didn’t come with?” The opening he hoped for, Izzy related what had happened, how Abel and Leather set him free. Other than the sounds of eating, no one made a peep as they listened to his . When he finished, Joe put the cup down, folded his hands together, and leaned forward. “The whelp is on the way. That there Southern Baptist preacher is

spreading lies ‘bout what happened.” Joe hacked up phlegm and spit toward the fire. The old man had silently conveyed his opinion of the preacher without being verbally disrespectful. Izzy grinned. He understood what Joe meant. He’d never met the preacher. Since neither Doc Allen nor Old Joe thought much of the man, Izzy knew all he needed to. The ‘southern’ part was enough alone. A Rebel sympathizer, he would surely side with Buster. “Yep. That’s what Doc said.” He leaned forward and snagged a stick from the pile of firewood. Pealing the shaggy bark away with a fingernail, he glanced around the semicircle from under his lashes. “There’s only one way I can see to get clear of this.” The entire group seemed to freeze in place, like animals sensing danger. Izzy had their attention. After tossing the twig into the fire pit, he took the time to look at each face turned toward him. “I propose we leave, all of us. California is supposed to have a lot of land for the taking. This place isn’t mine, never has been regardless of Mam’s wishes. We can all pack up and get our hind ends on the trail to California. Buster wants this mess; I plan to let him have it.” Chaos erupted as everyone began to speak, throwing questions at him. “Quiet now!” The old man’s voice rang out. Silence fell on the group. “How? You planning on taking over as master?” “Nope. That’s Buster’s affair, not mine. The thing is, y’all are free now. As I see it, that’s all fine as far as it goes. Thing is, being free ain’t worth much if y’all don’t have what it takes to feed y’all. Takes money to do that.” Nods followed those words. “I’m marrying Lace and heading for California. I’m hoping to take my family with me. The lot.” “Miz Noya said we was her family. A good Christian woman, y’all’s Ma.” Joe hacked again and spit at the fire. “MacCullough’s roasting, iffen there’s any justice. Y’all’s a different animal. The uniform tells me part of it. Still, y’all been gone a long time.”

“Who hid me when MacCullough came looking with that riding crop in hand? Big Lou did. Who taught me to snare rabbits?” He waved at Old Joe and Jem. “Besides, I ain’t Israel Chesse MacCullough. Nope, I’m Israel Chesse Allen. There ain’t a MacCullough bone in my body, not a drop of his blood. Y’all can trust me. We all go to California, Doc included. We make a home and raise our kids free. I’ll just be one more ‘injun’ there, nothing special.” Izzy rose and extended his hand to Lace. “Lace and I need to go back to Doc’s. He’s gonna bring a wagon with some of his stuff. There’ll be room in it for those who can’t ride. While we’re at Doc’s think on it. We’ll be back in the morning. I’m hoping Abel and Leather will turn up tomorrow so y’all can talk it out with them. Don’t take too long. , Buster is out there.” After a quick hug for Joe, Lace waved to everyone as she hurried to his side. “Do you think they’ll go?” she whispered. His arm went around her. “Darlin’, I don’t think there’s a choice. Still, it’s best if they come to that decision on their own. Let’s get the horses and head out.”

Chapter Nine

The horse tied to the long hitching rail in front of the doctor’s house wore a Union Army saddle, as did Thor. Lace wondered who waited inside. Then she looked down at the faded and torn shirt and pants she wore. With bare feet and hair in wild disarray, she wished for a dress and a comb. Embarrassment colored her cheeks. She could feel the heat from the flush. “I’m thinking we should take the horses back behind the house to the stable.” Izzy’s voice pulled Lace from her thoughts. “Darlin’, why the frown? They should be safe back there. If Buster happens along, he won’t see them behind the house.” She twisted the ends of the reins around her fingers. “It’s not that. Y’all lead, I’ll bring up the rear.” “What’s got y’all’s forehead all wrinkled like a dried apple?” He reached out and rubbed his thumb across her skin. Lace sighed. Izzy hadn’t changed much. He still couldn’t let something lie. “I look a fright. My hair’s all tangled. I haven’t had a wash in days, and I’m not fit for company.” “Lace, anyone who knows what happened will understand you lost everything in the fire. If Doc has a guest, from the look of things an Army officer, he won’t be crass enough to insult another guest. “Iffen he knows...” “How is he going to know anything we don’t tell him? Y’all getting all het up over nothing. Come with me. I bet Doc has a curry comb in the stable. I can’t do much about the shirt and pants, but I can fix your hair.” Keeping her fingers meshed with his, Izzy drew her around the back of the

house. He lit the lantern on the shelf just inside the double doors. She helped him get both animals settled in the empty stalls and watered them from the covered barrel inside. “Look what I found.” He flipped several rags hanging from a nail above the barrel with a finger. Y’all could use these for a spit-bath while I take care of making y’all’s hair presentable. How about it?” “Maybe. But that comb for the horse, be careful, hear me? The teeth on that thing scares me near to death.” “Mind washing up. Don’t get any soap in the animal’s water. I’ll take care of y’all’s hair. How many times have I braided it?” “More than I can count.” “Uh-huh. Maybe as many as there are fish in the river?” A giggle couldn’t be held back. She’d missed this, being with Izzy. “Silly.” The cloth damp, she used a corner and dipped it into the soap crock on the shelf. While she washed, Izzy worked on her hair. “Ouch! Israel Chesse, you trying to pull it out by the roots?” “Nope. I found a real knot. Maybe I should cut it out?” With one hand, she dipped water from the barrel and rinsed the cloth out. “Don’t you dare. Then I’d have a patch hanging loose.” He chuckled. “Not to worry. I’m just funning with y’all. I got it.” He did. She could feel the rhythm as he braided her somewhat tamed hair. It needed a good wash, but that could wait. Lace hung the rag back on the nail. “What y’all gonna tie it with?” “I got something. Stop fretting. Girl, next thing y’all be in a tizzy, if y’all keep this up.” He flipped the braid over her shoulder. “See. I took care of it.” The piece of once red ribbon had faded, but she knew it. Braid in hand, she spun

around and found herself in his arms. “It’s my good hair ribbon. I couldn’t find it.” “I know. I stole it, took it with. Who knew when I’d see you again, if ever. It’s been in my pocket for every mile, every battle.” “Izzy, y’all never said...” “I didn’t want y’all thinking I was anything like Turlough or Buster. Lord knows I’ve wanted to love on y’all for a while. It’s why we need to marry and get it over with. When I left Elysian Fields, I figured I was hell bound, a sinner beyond redemption. Finding he wasn’t my pa lifted a weight off.” His arms tightened around her. Izzy’s head came slowly toward hers. Lace’s hands went to his shoulders and she lifted on tiptoe to meet him. Warm soft lips closed on hers. Her hands linked around his neck as if they had minds of their own. He clasped her tighter and Lace fell against him. She couldn’t say how long it went on. “Whoa!” He took a deep breath and a large step back. “We need to go in.” Izzy reached for her hand. “Y’all gonna stop arguing with me about getting wed?” Izzy opened the door and dropped her hand long enough to put out the lantern. It went back on the shelf. Lace’s hand went to her lips. Still warm from his kiss, she understood what he’d been trying to tell her. “Y’all get no more quarrel from me. Not a bit.” “That’s a relief. We’ll talk to Doc about it after dinner. Let’s go see who his guest is.” That wasn’t what she wanted to do. Lace wanted to go on kissing Izzy. She felt a deep urge to learn everything he knew about the relationship between men and women.

Chapter Ten

They could have gone to the back door. Izzy didn’t. He walked them to the front. On the small porch, he kept his fingers meshed with Lace’s as he knocked on the door. The broad smile on the doctor’s face when he opened to them froze him in place for a moment as did the greeting. “Son. Lace. Come in. Dinner is ready if you are. I want you to meet a friend.” Doc Allen stood to the side and opened the door wide. Izzy noted the closed connecting door to the surgery. In the parlor, a man in Union blue rose. The doctor ushered them forward. “Morton Ingle, this is my son, Israel Chesse Allen. This is Lace, his intended.” The other man, close to the doctor’s height, gave Izzy a careful perusal, from the dusty boots to the battered cavalry hat. He walked forward and stuck out his hand. “Mustered out and fresh in from the field?” Izzy quickly pulled the hat from his head. The officer, a chaplain by his black frock coat, turned to Lace after shaking Izzy’s hand. “Good evening to you, Miss...” Turning his head, Izzy smiled down at her in reassurance and replied, “Lace Hannah. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough getting back. Her home burned and she hid out until I could get here.” No one bothered to mention what might have happened to her if she hadn’t gone into hiding. Raiders, both Rebel and Union, were laying waste to the Cherokee Nation. They killed and stole indiscriminately. “Shall we go into the kitchen?” his father asked. “Our supper is on the back of the stove and might get dry if allowed to sit too long.” Since everyone knew he’d turned the dining room into his surgery and office, no one questioned eating in the kitchen.

The table set for four people, held a pitcher of tea. Unsure of the seating, Izzy moved himself and Lace to the side. The chaplain, following behind, strode forward and seated himself at the far end of the table. Still wearing the smile Izzy deemed a bit less than natural, Doc Allen picked up a dish towel and began to place pots on the trivets waiting in the center of the table. “I’m afraid in this house it’s to be family service. Ida is a great cook, which should make up for my lack of other amenities. I understand there’s a dried apple pie in the cellar.” “Capital.” When the doctor seated himself close to the door leading to the cellar, the chaplain nodded. “Shall we give thanks? If you like, Brent, I’ll say the blessing.” “Please, since it’s your calling,” Doctor Allen said. “Shall we bow our heads? Dear Lord, we thank you for your provision. We also thank you for the return of sons, safe and sound, and daughters, protected from harm. In the name of your precious son, Jesus.” The man’s smile was genuine when he lifted his head and ed his plate to Lace. “If you would do the honors, Miss Hannah.” After putting mashed potatoes on the plate, she glanced at the chaplain. He nodded and Lace continued to fill it. When they all had food, the questions started. Izzy didn’t mind them all being directed at him. When the first one went to Lace, the doctor took control. “Morton, I’ve a second purpose in mind asking you to sup with us. I understand you’re leaving soon. When, might I ask?” “We’re expecting a steamer up the Grand in about two days. I and a few other officers have been called back East.” “Interesting.” “Hmm.” The chaplain waved his fork in the air. “I’ll miss Ida’s cooking. Be sure and tell her. Yes, it is interesting. The Council wants the land the fort is on returned to them. But there are things afoot I don’t agree with. The Cherokee

Nation has suffered enough from the war. What with bushwhackers and guerrillas—, begging your pardon, miss, for bringing up anything which may cause you distress—, there’s been far too much death. Certain segments of the rich and powerful want to move another tribe into the less populated of the Cherokee Nation lands.” Izzy came close to dropping his fork. “Removal again? Haven’t the Cherokee given up enough?” “I agree. Not a popular position, granted. It seems to me there’s enough land for all. Mankind tends to be greedy. Very few people take what Jesus said literally.” The chaplain shook his head. “Try preaching that to a congregation eager to have what their neighbors do.” The sharp glance the doctor threw his way, silenced Izzy. He supposed since he didn’t plan to stick around, getting into an argument with the preacher made no sense. Pointing out that the aggressors and usurpers of land were usually White wouldn’t help. He mumbled agreement and forked up another bite. “Then you think things might heat up out here?” Doc Allen asked his guest. “Goodness, no. Not with the Cherokee. But I do fear this war, brother against brother, may go underground here in the Cherokee Nation. There’s been too many murders, feuds if you will, for it to simply end now.” Izzy found himself in agreement with that observation. He should know. Buster was still his half-brother if not full blood. What would Buster do if he found Izzy? An educated guess said Buster wouldn’t hesitate to commit murder—, his. Their meal finished, Doc brought the pie up from the cellar and cut their guest a generous piece. As the chaplain ate, the doctor leaned back in his chair. The last piece went into the man’s mouth and he grinned. “Excellent. I’m feeling quite stuffed.” “Then let us retire to the parlor for a moment.” Doc Allen rose. “Izzy, Lace, why don’t you two young folk go ahead. We’ll you shortly.” He wanted to listen in, but didn’t dare. The last word he heard, “Trotter”, the name of the Southern Baptist preacher had him dragging his feet through the hall. The two men spoke in hushed tones. Understanding his father didn’t want

them to hear more, Izzy entered the parlor. Seated on the sofa with Lace, he could only wait and stew, pondering what his father might be plotting. One thing came to mind he sincerely hoped might come to . A short time later, the chaplain entered the parlor. He walked toward the empty fireplace and turned his gaze to Izzy and Lace. “Your father says you two wish to marry, but are not part of Reverend Trotter’s flock. Is this correct?” Lace’s hand took hold of his. He squeezed gently hoping she would keep silent. “Yes, sir. It is correct. Since I fought for the Union and my half-brother went to the other side, I don’t expect much from Reverend Trotter. Fact is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he, my half-brother, did his best to remove me from the world. As you said, this is a war of brothers.” Hands behind his back, Chaplain Ingle nodded. “A bad business, this. I only pray President Lincoln can lead the nation back into unity. However, back to your situation. I gather you have a Cherokee mother since Doctor Allen is your father. He says you are all leaving and headed farther west. California, perhaps.” “True. It would make our lives a great deal easier if we could marry before leaving.” “Miss Hannah,” Chaplain Ingle turned to Lace. “Is it your wish to be married to this young man?” Her fingers tightened around his hand. Lace glanced at his father, him, then skittered back to the chaplain. “I wish it more than anything.” “Is it also true that Mr. Allen’s half-brother has his eyes on you, and you don’t care for the man?” Lace’s head dropped. “Yes. And I don’t think he has marriage on his mind.” With a sigh, the chaplain nodded. “Well, then, I don’t see any choice. We can do it here and now. I’m not sure how we’ll record it...” “I’ve my mother’s Bible in my saddle bags out in the stable. If I bring it in, y’all

and Doc here can witness the marriage after I enter it. I can have it in here quicker than scat if that will do?” “It certainly will. Go get the Bible, young Mr. Allen. Then we’ll see about getting you married.” “Yes, sir!” Izzy almost saluted before he dropped Lace’s hand and raced from the room.

Chapter Eleven

She never thought it would happen. When Chaplain Ingle said they were man and wife and directed Izzy to kiss the bride, Lace nearly swooned from shock. The man excused himself, he’d been out later than he planned. Doc Allen walked him out to the porch. Holding Izzy’s hand, she stared at him. “It really happened. I didn’t believe it ever would.” He smiled down at her. “Didn’t I say so?” “I guess we’ll need to rearrange things a little for tonight.” The doctor’s statement had their heads turning in his direction. “I’ll sleep in the surgery. You two take my room.” “We wouldn’t want to put you out,” Izzy said. “I’ll not have my son and his bride sleeping on the floor in front of the fireplace. I can spend the night on the cot.” Izzy shuffled his feet, but didn’t argue. Doc Allen put both hands on her cheeks. “You’re a beautiful bride, Lace. It’s good to have a daughter. Welcome to the family, small as it is.” “Oh, this does make y’all my pa. I never thought of that.” “It does indeed.” He kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you go in the bedroom, it’s that door, and I’ll send Izzy in a little later. We’ve a few things to discuss.” “Take the Bible with you, darlin’.” Izzy said. She went to take it from the small end table and leaned forward to read the entry. “Izzy. Y’all listed my name as Lace Hannah.” “I did. It’s the truth. It’s been y’all’s name as long as we’ve been alive.”

She brushed her tears away so they wouldn’t fall on the page and cause the ink to run. “My middle name. Thank you. That means I’ll never be a MacCullough again.” Lace shut the Bible and with it under her arm, bounced over to give him a hug. He smiled at her. “We’re close to being free of that. Go along, sugar. I’ll be there soon.” She opened the door to the doctor’s bedroom and didn’t close it until she had the lamp lit. Lace turned the wick down so it cast a soft glow over the room. After placing the Bible on the dresser, she looked around. Then she realized what must happen next; something she’d been avoiding for the last few years. Lace sat on the bed and took a deep breath. Fear mingled with anxiety threatened to overwhelm her. Fingers twisted together, she tried to gather her courage. She prayed she wouldn’t disappoint Izzy.

Izzy followed his father into the office off the surgery. When the doctor pointed to a chair, Izzy sat. “If this is about leaving, we need to make sure...” “It’s not.” Hands clasped between his knees; Doc Allen leaned forward. “It’s about Lace. That poor girl doesn’t have a woman here to help her and, after what she’s been through, I should make a few things clear.” “I’ve been with a woman before.” The doc’s statement irritated him. “I’ve no doubt of it. You were a soldier. But there is a world of difference between a woman who takes money for the act and a wife.” “Guess that’s true.” The questions he had regarding the doctor’s relationship with his mother came to the fore again. Still, the man had helped him with the wedding. It might not have happened if he hadn’t intervened. Izzy kept his lip buttoned. “How do you break a horse, son? Do you shove a bit in its mouth a saddle on it and climb on?” Izzy laughed. “That’s about the best way to get thrown I’ve ever heard. Y’all acquaint the animal with a hackamore, then the bridle. The saddle comes last of all and only after a few days, maybe more than a few.” “And if the horse has been abused, used badly by some heavy-handed lout? What then?” “Ah. I see.” He did. The doctor had given him something to think about. “If all your experience is with soiled doves, you’ll need some additional information. That is...unless you and Lace have already...” “No.” Izzy straightened in the chair; his hands gripped the arms. “I planned to marry her the minute I discovered he wasn’t my pa. We did nothing but ride here.” “Then let me give you some information. She’s strong, not given to vapors.

Understand, starting her married life with pain and anxiety will put you off on the wrong foot. This won’t take long.” He inclined his head. His cheeks clear to his ears felt hot. “Go on, then.” “Listen close. Here’s what you should do.” Doc Allen made it short and concise. Then he took a bottle and small glass from his desk. “Here. It’s good Kentucky whiskey. Don’t give her the whole thing. Share it with her. Then give it a little time to work. Talk with her. Give the girl time to relax. Do as I say, and pretend Lace is one skittish animal.” “All right.” Izzy rose from the chair and took the glass. The heat in his face didn’t go away until he left the surgery and walked into the dimly lit bedroom. Lace lay in the bed, the covers pulled to her chin. Eyes the size of an owl’s stared at him. He forced a smile and placed the whiskey on the little table beside the bed. “Let me get these boots off and get comfortable. Doc sent something for us to try. Y’all ever had good Kentucky liquor?” She shook her head. “We’ll share it.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he removed his boots and wiggled his toes with a sigh. “Tarnation, that feels good.” He removed his shirt and draped it over the hook sticking out of the back of the door where a dressing gown hung. He walked back over to the bed and watched Lace ease to the far edge. Izzy slid on top of the bedding. He scooted up and, with the other pillow behind him, leaned against the headboard. “Dang, what a day. Wiggle on over here, darlin’. I don’t want to take a chance of spilling this all over Doc’s bed. Here, I’ll take the first sip.” The bed moved a little. When he looked over to hand her the glass, Lace had come closer. After taking another tiny sip, he handed her the liquor. “Tomorrow, we’ll need to make a list of all we need before leaving. We already have horses, I’m thinking mules for everyone else, maybe Doc’s wagon too.

Mules would be the best choice. Only I don’t know who might have that many for sale.” “Oh!” She coughed and sputtered. “This is strong stuff. Made my eyes water.” “Sorry, darlin’. It’s a little on the powerful side, but there’s times when a tot of whiskey is a good thing to have. I never developed a taste for it. Dealing with MacCullough drunk cured me.” “Then why are we drinking this?” Izzy took the glass she held out. “Doc thinks we both need to relax. A little of this stuff shared won’t make drunkards of us.” “He said to take it?” “Yep.” He took another sip and held the glass out to her. “A couple more and we’ll be done. Then I’d like a kiss or maybe several if y’all don’t mind.” Lace sighed. “We’re married. It’s y’all’s right.” “I’d rather y’all wanted to be kissed. It’s no fun if the other person doesn’t want the same thing. Finish that up, sugar. Tell me, who might have enough mules?” When she held out the empty glass to him, Izzy took it. It went beside the lamp. He slid an arm around her and pulled her against his shoulder. When she relaxed and began to name people who might have what they needed, Izzy smiled. As his father said, it was best to go slow. Before the night was over, they would consummate their vows. He hoped.

Chapter Twelve

Once Izzy left the office, Brent poured another glass of whiskey. This one he planned to drink before even trying to sleep. His son! He’d waited years to claim the boy as his. The young man, a boy no longer, wasn’t sure about any of it. There would be hard questions later. How or when they would come up, he couldn’t say. He’d given Izzy what he could in the time they had. He understood as well as Izzy or Lace, or any of the now free slaves, what would happen if Buster caught up with them. He sipped at the whiskey. The promise Noya had extracted from Izzy and Buster would mean nothing to Turlough MacCullough, Junior. Izzy, like his mother, honored his word. If those two came together, he must be prepared to stop Buster. Not a lie, he didn’t have anything more to hold him in Gibson. He’d always meant to leave one day. Leaving with Izzy and Lace made more sense than anything else. One day, Izzy might forgive him. He hoped it would happen. In the morning, they must get on with the process of leaving. He’d found a sturdy, dependable wagon and had talked with a man about buying mules. Leaving the desk would be sad, but he didn’t need a great deal. A few books, his instruments, and a few keepsakes would be all he planned to take. The deal he’d finalized with Reverend Ingle— he’d sold out everything—would allow Ingle’s nephew to come out and take over without having to build from scratch. A good deal for the nephew, it put money in his pocket, and they would need it in California. The level of the liquor in the glass went down slowly. Soon, he’d try to sleep. Since he’d not heard any screams, it seemed Izzy and Lace would be fine. She wouldn’t come out of the bedroom a virgin; he’d seen how Izzy looked at the girl. Satin might not haunt him since he’d done his best for her little girl. A sweet child, he would proudly tell anyone who asked that she was his daughter

by marriage. Letting Ingle think her last name was Hannah was brilliant on Izzy’s part. That removed any reference to the bastard Noya married. There was someone he didn’t want to start thinking about—that puffed up fool, Turlough. He’d best put him from mind or he might drink more than he should. Alcohol had become a hard to resist temptation. Those first nights after burying Noya and Satin, whiskey was the only way he found release from the pain. With Noya’s people to care for, he’d put it away and got on with the business of living, which had given him another insight on the woman he loved. Caring for them, protecting the slaves from Turlough, was something she’d dedicated her life to. Along with her children. Something in Buster allied the son with his father against all his mother tried to instill in the boy. Izzy was different. He’d always wondered if the difference in Izzy came from having a different father or having less with Turlough. Izzy ran with Abel and Leather. The three boys did most things together, even with the age difference between Leather and the other two. Noya once told him she encouraged Izzy to stay away from Turlough. Since he had Buster, Turlough ignored Izzy. There were things Turlough wouldn’t fight her over. When her heart condition worsened, Brent took pains to impress on her useless husband the necessity for keeping her calm and not overtaxing her strength. For a while that worked. He came to the bottom of the glass. All the whiskey gone, Brent extinguished the lamp in the office. It was time to try sleeping. They had a great deal to see to on the following day. In his shirt and pants, the doctor made himself as comfortable on the cot as he could. A short prayer for Izzy and Lace, a request for God to hurry Abel and Leather along while delaying Buster went up. Never sure if it did any real good, he figured it couldn’t hurt. He’d told countless people the same thing over the years and decided to take his own advice.

Chapter Thirteen

The scent of coffee, the low buzz of men’s voices woke Lace. When she opened her eyes, Izzy wasn’t there. The little prickle of disappointment fled when she thought about the night before. His kindness and patience with her had Lace smiling even as her cheeks heated. Lace pulled the pillow over her face as she recalled the things they had done. There’d been the first sharp little pain; then it all dissolved as Izzy did things which felt far better than she’d imagined. Having inadvertently witnessed Turlough with Ma, she had expected none of it to be pleasant. Oh, how wrong she’d been. Too bad Izzy had left her alone. She wouldn’t have minded waking up to a few of those thought-stealing kisses. She wallowed in the soft bedding for a bit more. The absolute best part of the night had come with Izzy’s declaration of love for her. Unexpected and wonderful, his words lifted her spirits as nothing else could. Then reality hit. She shouldn’t be lazing in bed with everything they had to do. Where were her brothers? If they didn’t get away from here soon... Buster... Thinking about Buster had her tossing back the covers and jumping out of bed. On top of all that, she’d best strip the bed and change the linens so the doctor would have a clean place to sleep. She stood still for a moment, bedding in her arms. Would they even be in Gibson when night fell? After pulling on the ragged pants and old shirt, which needed a wash as well as the bedding, she folded the quilt, put it and the pillows in the chair and went to see if she had time to do a load of wash. Down the hall, the kitchen door stood open as did the door to the back yard. The day was heating up. Yesterday’s spotty clouds had kept the day cool. Spring would soon give way to the heat of summer. Something to consider when they thought about traveling to California.

“Morning, darlin’.” Izzy rose from a kitchen chair and tugged her over for a kiss on the cheek. Peeking at Doc Allen from beneath her lashes, relief washed over her when she caught sight of his smile. “Morning, Izzy, Doc. Is there more than coffee? If y’all have some side meat and potatoes, I’ll make breakfast.” “Not necessary. Ida’s been here and gone. Your plate is in the oven,” Doc said with a smile. “Oh, dear! I’m sorry I slept so late with so much to do.” “Y’all were tired.” Izzy chuckled. “I’ve not been up that long myself. Doc here,”—Izzy gestured with his coffee cup—“has something to tell us.” “I do. First off, I sold this entire place. I don’t need to pack much. I’ll be paid today. I’ve a wagon ready to be picked up and mules to pull it.” Doc pushed his chair back. “Sit, Lace. I’ll get your plate. Then I have a few questions for Izzy.” Being served by a man felt strange. Still, she took the chair he’d indicated. Doc moved back into his seat opposite Izzy. “You’re going to the camp and see if Abel and Leather made it in. If I heard you correctly, you gave them the option of traveling with you to California or going their own way.” “Yep, I did.” “What if everyone else wants to do something different? What then?” She looked up from the plate and watched Izzy scratch his growing beard. “I don’t rightly know. I’m hoping they choose to stay with me.” Doc Allen shook his head. “If they do, what happens when everyone gets to the new place? What are your plans?” “Start a farm, I suppose. It’ll make a difference what grows best where we settle.” “And you expect them to work for you?” Something about the question or Doc’s tone irritated Izzy. He glowered at the

doctor. “I’ll pay a fair wage. I fought to free them.” “Son...,” Doc Allen pushed the empty coffee mug aside. “If they’re working for wages, if they have no means to make a choice, there’s not a lot of difference between you, your grandfather, and your mother.” “It’s not the same.” The chair scraped the floor as he pushed away from the table. “Not that much different, either. If they are free to decide where to go from here, they should have the means to make that choice. You have Turlough’s gold pouch; give them what’s due. Why is it so important to keep them working for you?” “I’ll know they’re safe. I can keep an eye on them. They’re all I’ve got left of Mam, of Elysian Fields.” “They aren’t yours, not if they’re free. Being free means standing on your own, succeeding or failing because of the decisions you make.” Lace could no longer eat. What the doctor wanted Izzy to understand was clear to her. Marrying Izzy had been her choice. She wanted to be with him. What did the rest of them want? Would they be content to work Izzy’s land? This would be hard for him. “Elysian Fields is a place for the peaceful dead. It was a prison for your mother, and she couldn’t break free. I would have taken her anywhere she wished to go. Her duty to the people kept her there. The damn place held her captive, as she held the slaves.” “Mam considered them family, not slaves,” Izzy hissed out. “Like children? They are grown men and women with minds like ours, not children to be looked after because they don’t have the intelligence to make a rational decision.” Doc Allen threw a hand into the air, palm out. “I know Noya never bought a slave. Her father or Turlough did. She broke the law and taught them to read and write, but she never freed them. Your mother could have and didn’t.” “Y’all don’t understand!” Izzy backhanded his mug and it slid across the table to

land on the floor. The doctor shook his head from side to side. “I do. They are your last link with her. If they all want to leave, strike out on their own, you think everything of her will be gone. Son, I don’t care how many cultures have held slaves over the years, it’s wrong and nothing about it will ever be right. Never.” “Lace?” Izzy turned to her. Pain radiated from the man she loved. From the pinched forehead to the downturned mouth, he hurt. “Darlin’, Doc is right. If they’re free, that means they can stay here or go with us part or all of the way and do what they think is best for them when we get there.” “I only want to have them close where I can watch out for them.” She pushed the chair from the table, turned and put her arms around her husband. “Give them some of the gold. Izzy. They deserve a choice. They’ve earned it,” Doc Allen said. Izzy, his forehead against hers, sighed. “Son, last night, Lace could have told Chaplain Ingle she didn’t wish to be your wife. She could have walked out of here and gone on her way. You weren’t chosen because there wasn’t any other option. Lace loves you. It’s why I sold out and plan to go west with you. You might be surprised if you let them choose.” Izzy stood and shook his head. “I pray y’all know what the hell y’all are talking about. I’ll be back in a minute. The pouch is in the bedroom with the Bible. I’ll get it and y’all can help me divvy it.” When her husband left the kitchen, Doc Allen gave her hand a pat. “Thank you, Lace. He needed to let go.” Not good with words, she turned her attention back to the plate to finish her potatoes. An evening meal might or might not happen. Everything in their world was chaos. As she chewed a bite, she took a glance at her new father by marriage.

She’d never given any thought to Noya’s position before. The woman had been as much a prisoner as the slaves she supposedly owned. Life was strange.

Chapter Fourteen

Sitting on the bare mattress, Izzy felt just as stripped. His life had been upended in the last few days. He knew there was no choice but to walk away from his home. He’d come to with the reality of his father, the man he thought his father, hating him. Then he found Elysian Fields in ruins, his mother dead, and strangest of all, the man he thought was his father... wasn’t. But he still had Lace. Better yet, they were married. His hand strayed to the Bible beside him. The entry inside, newly inked, meant more to him than the pouch of gold beside it. The weight of the pouch when he grasped it was a lot less than it had been. His mother would have wanted him to share with Buster... which brought him to the matter of the slaves. Why hadn’t she freed them? An early memory, one he’d tried to put behind him, surfaced—Turlough looking for him with his quirt in hand. Old Joe had taken the three of them down to the creek. He set Abel and Leather up fishing and hid Izzy. Abel and Leather were to pretend they had no idea where Izzy was, should the master come looking. Then, another time, he hadn’t eaten for a full day. Late at night, Big Lou crept into his room with an old fatty candle and chicken stew in a hollowed out, two day-old dinner roll. She told him to be sure and eat the roll when he finished the stew so there’d be no trace left. Jem and Dogger, out in the field, hoeing rows of corn, nodding at him to follow Leather while Turlough screamed curses, another memory. Someone had always been there to point him to a hidey-hole, a way to escape Turlough. Turlough would have beat him if Izzy were discovered. An ill mother not able to actively protect the child, Noya had enlisted the slaves. Without Satin inside to stand between her and the man she married, what might Turlough have done? Izzy hefted the bag of gold coins as he stood. They had no time for this, but it must be done. The favorite son, Buster's hot anger came closer with every day

they stayed here. He had to have answers from his father, the man willing to treat him as a son. Lace could help, too. Much as he wanted to be gone, he couldn’t leave. Not yet.

Buster got as far as Old Joe’s cabin and decided he couldn’t walk another step. He’d come close to falling over in a dead faint on seeing the pile of gold on the damn table. There wasn’t a note or any indication of who’d left it there, but he didn’t need one. Izzy somehow had... No, not somehow. Lace had waited for Izzy and given him Pa’s money bag. With a finger, he flipped one of the coins off the top of the stack. Honest Izzy, damn near as bad as Honest Abe, had divided the gold and left it for him. His half-brother had guessed the gut wrenching find of the graves would take the starch right out of him. Good guess. A gurgle from his stomach protesting a lack of something inside got him out of the chair. Was there anything left in the root cellar? Buster rose from the table. He’d see if he could find the hatch. Thinking about it, Buster didn’t a door on the outside which meant the old man had one in the floor somewhere. A glance under the table revealed a large knothole. Buster pushed the table aside causing the stack of coins to tumble. He cursed when he had to chase them across the floor, which sloped toward the fireplace. But he found the root cellar. The section of flooring came up and he lifted it out of the lumber cradle ing it. A ladder made by lashing branches into notches in poles led down into the dark depths. Having made up his mind to spend the night, Buster walked over to the fireplace. Tinder and shavings sat in a chipped chamber pot. Good enough. With the flint and steel sitting beside it, he could make a fire. He would have light. Food would wait on what he found below. Taking a torch into the cellar might be a little dumb. Maybe he’d be best served to light the thing then drop it to the floor below. It would give a little light before it died. Better still, he should pour water on it to be sure it didn’t flare up. Joe’s old cabin had become the only livable dwelling on the estate. He was, by God, claiming it. Freed slaves could take care of themselves. How the hell he’d get seed in the ground alone... No, not now. One thing at a time. The fire for light and comfort, he didn’t need it

for heat. Something to fill the hole in his belly and maybe an old sack to hold the gold were things he needed. Or should he take only a few coins and bury the rest? Somewhere out there were Abel and Leather. If those two were spying on him... did they know about the pile of gold? Not unless they had reconnoitered the cabin. If they had, there wouldn’t have been a share of the coins stacked on the table. If those two watched, anything he buried would be dug up and gone almost as soon as he got out of sight. Best if he took a few and buried the rest in the root cellar. It would be safe there. Tomorrow, before he began walking to the fort, he needed to see if the fields had been prepared and seed put in. He also needed something else to wear. The Confederate uniform could see him thrown in prison if the surrender agreement hadn’t been signed. “Fuck.” Hand shaking from lack of food, he laid the tinder amid the old ash and tented smaller twigs over it. A few thicker branches on top and he was ready to try getting a spark to light the small bundle of tinder on the hearth. It caught on the third try. One thing became abundantly clear. He needed to lay off the hooch. His hands shouldn’t be shaking as much as they were, food or no food. Blowing gently on the tiny spark, he waited until it nearly burned his fingers before placing the glowing bundle beneath the tower of sticks. Sitting back on his heels, Buster watched the flame grow. When it fully engulfed the fuel he’d placed there, he began to add larger pieces of wood. He stood and looked the cabin over in the growing light of the fire. Was there anything of use in the loft? Bedding maybe? He’d check after having a look in the root cellar. Before doing that, he needed to check the water pail. It was a pleasant surprise to find it full. Someone had been using the cabin; he’d bet on Lace. She’d hid from him, never from Izzy. Their half-sister, she was still a slave. He grunted in disgust. No longer. But if he caught her, she’d give him what he’d been trying to get down to for a long time. One good thing he could think of came out of this mess. Satin was no longer there to threaten him. Then again, he scrubbed a hand over his face, nor could he sit and talk with her. More than Mam, the tall, regal-looking slave had raised him.

Satin was the only one Pa allowed him around. The old man claimed Mam babied him too much. Weren’t mothers supposed to hug small boys, comfort them when they needed it? Instead, Satin held him, dried tears, and wiped his nose, along with taking him by the ear when she felt he needed discipline. One night when she’d caught him stealthily making his way down the stairs, she swore if he touched Lace, she’d give him something in his food or water which would keep him from ever getting it up again. He tried to bull his way past. “Why haven’t you given it to Pa,” he hissed. She grabbed him by the ear. As tall as any man, the slave held her ground. “What makes y’all think I haven’t? Not enough to kill, but enough to keep him from pecking away where he shouldn’t be.” He didn’t dare say a thing. If he’d asked the old man if he had trouble poking Satin, Pa would’ve taken a strip of hide off his back. The old bugger could do it, too. Before selling Juda, the old man had done just that. Taught the buck a lesson about touching the woman he used. Being in a bad way for a while, Mam had missed the whole thing. He hadn’t. Turlough could wield a whip when he had cause. On finding out what happened, Mam had a conniption fit. Her rage and anger with Turlough did her no good. Put her back in bed again for another week and nothing changed. Pa got rid of Satin’s lover and got a good price for the fool. Messing with the master’s woman was damn stupid. The only thing standing between him and Lace now was Izzy. He snorted. Not a great protector. If he found Izzy, he’d find the girl. Buster fed the growing flames. He could take a torch and see if there was anything to eat in the cellar besides spiders. Flaming branch in one hand and the other beneath it to catch any embers, Buster squatted beside the hole and gently tossed it into the void. Several decrepit barrels waited there. Luckily, a few old potatoes lay in the sand. They weren’t the best having already sprouted. Still, he’d roast them in the coals and eat tonight. Tomorrow, he’d bury the gold. As soon as he had something in his belly, Buster planned to use his knife to get

the insignia off his uniform. He’d rub dirt into the area and maybe cold ashes. He didn’t want the Yanks to know he’d been an officer. It was all over now. Time to hunker down and mind what he said to who. The long walk to the fort would come after checking the fields. He knew where to find the slaves. The damned lot would be hanging out near the fort, hoping the Yanks would protect them. Buster grinned as he pushed the potatoes into the coals with a stick. They were in for a real surprise.

Chapter Fifteen

“Lace, would y’all take care of this for me? I already gave Leather and Abel one each. I’m guessing there’s plenty there to give everyone two of those. We should have enough to set us up right when we settle somewhere.” He took the seat directly across from the Doc. Izzy still had a hard time thinking of him as his father. It would take some time to sink in. “I’m to give the boys one more each?” Lace asked. “Yep. And give their women the same.” He stroked one hand over her head. It could use a brushing. “Doc, y’all got a brush or comb I could use on Lace’s hair?” “Yes. Do you want it now?” Doc asked. “Please. It’ll take less time if I do that while she takes care of the money.” He didn’t add that it would allow him to keep his eyes on her head while asking questions. When the doc got up to get the brush, he moved his chair behind Lace. The mess he’d made of her hair needed to be fixed. It wasn’t as tightly curled as Leather’s or as Satin’s had been. Like Abel, hers was looser curls. His waved when he let it get to shoulder length with a tendency to form ringlets. Since he’d mussed her hair last night, it was only fair he should be the one to set it to rights. A hand appeared in front of him taking his mind off the night before. Fairly sure his cheeks were red; he took the brush with a nod. “These belong to Lace?” Doc Allen asked as he opened his hand and two worn pieces of ribbon lay in his palm. “Yep. Thanks.” Using his fingers, he separated her hair into two hunks and then one into three. Izzy carefully pulled the brush through each section. “Why do you think Mam never set them free?”

“I need more coffee.” The chair scraped across the floorboards as Doc Allen pushed it back again. Going for a fresh cup gave the doctor time to think. He understood the ploy. The job he’d taken on gave him something to do with his hands as well as keeping his eyes on Lace. He tracked the doctor’s movements from the corner of his eye. When his father took his seat again, Izzy guessed he’d get an answer. Would it be in line with his thoughts? “She might have done so if not for two things, being sick and married to Turlough.” Lace snorted. “Turlough was enough, in my opinion.” “We didn’t ask y’all.” He tugged on her hair. “Quiet, let the man talk.” “They had a war going,” Doc said with a sigh. “Buster was the prize. Turlough didn’t give a hang what you did. No, that’s not right. He did if he could give you hell over it. Buster was a different deal. I doubt he cared as much for his son as he wanted everyone to think. But if he could turn Buster against Noya, and she threw him out, the boy would’ve gone with him. “The slaves were her troops. Spies and such. They kept Turlough from killing you and let her know what trickery Turlough was up to.” “I thought about it, and they did keep him from beating me many a time. From what I saw of Mam’s relationship with Satin, she never blamed Satin for what Turlough did.” Izzy finished one braid and tied it off with a ribbon. As old and worn as they were, he should buy her some new ones. Maybe a couple more. “They were allies in the war against Turlough.” Looking down at the table, the doctor twisted his cup in a circle. “Satin covered for Noya and me. In return, Noya did her best to keep Lace away from Turlough and Buster.” “Izzy, they were friends, Mam and my ma. They thwarted him every chance they got. Ma said he used to hit them when he got real drunk. But that stopped right after Mam got pregnant with you. She wondered what made him stop,” Lace said.

“I did.” Doc Allen’s cup careened off the top of the table and hit the floor with a thud. “I told the yellow-belly if I got called out again to treat either of them because of his heavy hand, I’d make sure he didn’t have a right hand to raise against them.” Izzy stared at the doctor as he rose from the table and stalked to the back door. It shut with a bang when he strode outside. Stunned, Izzy sat with the last braid half-finished in hand. “Give me that.” Lace reached back and took the hair he’d been braiding. “Go talk to the man. He’s y’all’s pa. Give him a chance. Mam had her reasons for what she did, y’all need to realize they were her reasons. Get.” “I’m not sure...” “He’s a sight better father than the one y’all thought was y’all’s. Fill his cup, take it out to him. Y’all don’t need to do more than stand out there with the man.” Cup in hand, Izzy let himself out the back door. Since the stable door stood open a crack, he guessed the doc... With a sigh he amended the thought. His pa, the one he never knew he had, might be inside. Lace’s words made sense. The horse Izzy ed Doc Allen riding out to their house for years stood hipshot while the curry comb wielded by the silent man ran over its coat. The horse let out a sigh. His pa chuckled. “Enjoy it now, old son. No telling when you’ll get the next one.” “You want this coffee? I’ll finish that for you.” Izzy held out the cup. “Not now, thanks. Give me a minute. This old nag has carried me many a mile. He deserves a little personal attention.” “Yep. I feel the same way about Thor. We slept together, starved together, and bled together.” “It must have been hell. Noya, Satin, we all worried about you. She and Satin prayed for your safe return every night... and for Buster.”

The rhythm of the grooming seemed to clear the tension between them. He watched the hands that had kept people alive move over the horse. The difference between Turlough and the doctor struck him. He should get over the lingering anger about the doctor’s relationship with his mother. She loved both her sons. He knew it. Thinking back on his childhood, he could see where Turlough used Buster against her. “He was a selfish bastard.” “Turlough?” “Yes.” “He wasn’t like that in the beginning, the way Noya told it. They weren’t suited and never should have married. I doubt he understood how not being accepted into the tribe and not having complete control of the place would twist him up inside. He grew bitter and angry.” “Drinking didn’t help. It only brought out the worst in him.” His pa nodded his head, turned, and put the currycomb back. He reached for the cup Izzy had been holding. That’s when Izzy took a good look at the man, something he hadn’t done before. Gray hair now covered the doctor’s temples and were interspersed through the strands several shades lighter than his. Four years and the loss of the woman he loved had aged Doc. Izzy handed the cup over. “It’s peculiar. I used to wish Turlough wasn’t my pa. Now, I find he isn’t and it’s not easy making the transition.” “I suspect it isn’t. Frankly, I wasn’t sure how you’d handle it. I’m glad Lace told you. You had a little time to let it sink in before we met again. Just so you understand, I don’t have anyone but you. There isn’t a wife and children back in New Brunswick or Ontario. The extent of my family is pitifully small—you and Lace.” “I thought mine was a sight larger. Maybe not. All those years they watched out for me may not mean they want to follow me to California. That’s a hard dose to swallow.” “I expect it is. Still, it’s what you fought for.” Doc Allen took a sip of the coffee.

“What’s y’all’s full name. Since I’m an Allen now, I should know more about my father.” “Brent Redoubt Allen. Born in New Brunswick and educated in Ontario. My family were royalists who fled north at the time of the revolution.” He shrugged. “I had a case of wanderlust and being a physician allowed me to go where I pleased. I considered enlisting in the Army but didn’t. Far too regimented for me. I found myself in Gibson and met Noya. She put an end to my wandering ways.” “Royalists?” “Yes. Father was a physician, retired. He’d been happy enough serving in the military. He enjoyed the structure. I didn’t. As soon as I could get my kit together, I bid my family farewell and left. There was no love lost between us.” “Somewhat like Turlough, then?” “A little. Not a drunkard. He liked his port after dinner well enough, but thought overdoing it was the sign of a weakened intellect.” Doctor Allen finished the coffee and swung the cup in an arc, emptying the dregs beside him. “Would you mind if I called y’all Brent for a while? Pa is a stretch for me.” Izzy asked. “That will do. But I intend to call you son at times. It’s been on the tip of my tongue since the day you entered the world.” “Good enough. It’s time we got down to the tents. We need to find out what they all want to do. Then we need to get moving. It’s past time to be away from here.”

Chapter Sixteen

Happy shouts from Abel and Leather greeted them when they rode up to camp. Every one of the now-freed slaves was close by. Joe sat on his log, a corncob pipe between his lips. Lace took it all in hurriedly. The silence of the others bothered her. After a quick hug from her brothers, she turned to have a closer look at the people she’d known all her life. Big Lou stirred the pot over the fire. One quick glance at Lace and her head went back down. They’d been talking alright, and she had a feeling she should have been here. Still, marrying Izzy, her dream, had finally come true. A thing she’d thought far beyond her reach. If she’d missed something important, it couldn’t be helped. At least Abel and Leather were happy to see Izzy. The doctor took the reins of the horses and walked with them toward a stand of trees. She hoped once the animals were secure, he’d return. It appeared they would need all the available. Grandpa Joe had a look on his face she couldn’t read. Closed tight, his expression gave nothing away. He puffed on the pipe and a cloud of blue smoke rose in the air. Izzy put her arm through his and took a few steps closer. With a gentle pat, he released her and pulled the dish rag from his pocket. They had wrapped the gold pieces he had designated for the others in it. “Go, give them out, sweetheart.” Exclamations of surprise and wonder escaped everyone when she handed out the money as Izzy had directed. When finished, she walked back to Izzy, took his hand, and meshed their fingers. “What’s this, Izzy?” Joe asked. Lace looked down at her bare toes. Things had changed overnight. None of them would have asked a question as baldly as Joe did before. Turlough would have

brought out his whip and istered punishment. “A share of what you worked for. It’s only right. Would you all want to go to California with Doc here, me, and Lace?” Another puff of blue smoke came from the bowl of Joe’s pipe. Abel stood up from his squat and shuffled his boots in the dirt. One grunt from Joe was enough to fold him up again. “California?” The word followed the grunt and hung in the air. “What y’all figure we’re gonna do there? Work for y’all, maybe?” “Nope, not necessarily. Y’all got means now. Abel and Leather could go in together on land. Farm it or something. We don’t know what’s what out there yet. There’s bound to be something.” Izzy pulled his hat from his head and slapped it against his leg. Gray dust rose in a small cloud from his hat and pants. “Don’t think I don’t how many times y’all saved my bacon. I’m not looking to continue the mess we had. I fought to end it. If someone wants to work for me, I’ll pay decent wages. If not, they can work their land. Something to , I’m not better than anyone else, just another damn injun. But we can’t stay here. There’s talk of the government seizing more land, and there’s not a blessed thing we can do to stop them. After Georgia, I expect they’ll take what they want and anyone who fights can expect a bullet.” “Truth, that.” Abel rose again. “They want something, they take it. I know the Rebs only wanted to keep us slaves. Free labor an’ all. Iffen we’re no more than property, nothing they do matters. Still, there’s no bit in the g’vernment’s mouth now.” He turned to Izzy. “What’s to stop them tossing us off any land we buy in California?” “Let me ask you, does Izzy look Cherokee?” the doctor asked from his new position beside Izzy. Lace eased forward to peer past her husband at the doctor. “Not so’s y’all would notice.” Joe gestured in their direction with his pipe. “All here know Izzy’s y’all’s boy. He looks more like y’all.”

“He does. So if everyone here goes with him to California, a free state, he can buy land, keep his mouth shut about Noya, and no one will say a word. Izzy and I can buy land and sell it to whoever we wish.” She watched Tansy, their son David in her arms, engage Leather in a whispered conversation. Around the half circle, men and their women had a few quiet words together. Pansy and Jem, Sal and Abel whispered together. Then heads swiveled toward Joe. Leaning over, the old man tapped the bowl of the worn pipe over the edge of the fire pit. He straightened and stared at her for a moment. It took all her will to meet his dark eyes. A slight turn of his head changed his attention to Izzy. “What about Lace?” “We can get to that shortly. You all know Buster is hot on these two’s heels,” Doc said. “We took his horse.” Leather threw in. “Figured y’all did. Still, how long do you think it will take him to walk here? He might stop at the estate for the night, but he’s coming ahead. I don’t plan on being anywhere close when he arrives. Are y’all coming with me or waiting for him to find y’all?” Abel rose and pulled Tansy to her feet. “We’re with y’all. Can’t rightly see sticking here. Cherokee Nation never did much for us.” Leather came next. “Going. We’ve got no reason to stay.” Around the semi-circle it went. When everyone had declared their intent to go along with Izzy and Doc Allen, Joe nodded. “Got y’all’s answer. How about mine?” Izzy put an arm around Lace’s shoulder. “One and all, meet Miz Lace Hannah Allen as of last night.” The stirring stick banged against the kettle. Astonished voices stilled. “How in the name of heaven did y’all get it done? It ain’t legal...” Big Lou sputtered to a halt at the look Izzy gave her.

“Yep, it is. Doc Allen got the chaplain at the fort to say the words. It’s all right and tight in Mam’s Bible. No one’s going to ask. If they do,”—he shrugged —“I’ll whip out the entry, complete with a witness signature.” Joe got up. He walked around the fire pit and came to give Lace a hug before nodding to Izzy. “Miz Noya and Satin would be proud of y’all. Now, when do we leave?” “As soon as we can get the mules and get enough food packed. The only wagon we’re gonna haul along is Doc’s. He’ll take some of his equipment in there along with the stuff like flour, salt, and the like. We need to go as light as we can.” With a broad grin, Joe waved a hand at the tents. “We got those. Maybe another two for y’all young married folk. Y’all got a line on mounts?” “Abel, Leather, think y’all can find what we need?” The two men exchanged a glance as they strode over. “Iffen y’all mean we should buy em, yeah. But it might be a mix of horses and mules. Not sure until we try.” Leather turned to the doctor. “Y’all got mules lined up?” “Yes, and the wagon. I sold my business out. Gave the spare key to the buyer last night. I only need to board up the doors and windows. Once the wagon is loaded, I’m ready.” Izzy dug into his pocket and brought out a gold coin. “Take this. Get the animals as fast as you can. Once Big Lou tells us what we need, we’ll go to the store. If we could leave here tonight, it’d make me happy.” “Don’t know about that soon.” Abel took the gold piece and shoved it into his pocket. “Leather and me need to go see if we can find old man Runs-The-Dog. We’ll be back as soon as we can.” Lace hurried over to confer with Big Lou. Izzy and the doctor ed them. She understood they must live off the land as best they could while traveling. She doubted one wagon load would get them as far as California. She’d heard talk, seen a family or two pack up and leave Cherokee Nation. The journey took the entire summer, or so they said. That was way more than one little wagon could carry.

For all the enthusiasm of the men, she wondered if they had any real doubts. She sure did.

Chapter Seventeen

Maybe three miles stood between him and the river, another four or five to the fort. Not that far. He and the old man had done that and more in a day, hunting. It would be a damn easy trip on a horse. That he didn’t have one was on Abel and Leather. Those two would pay. Buster had rolled one of the sand-filled barrels on top the rag-wrapped gold coins before tossing dust and dirt over the base of the barrel. He hoped it looked as if it hadn’t moved for years. A piss-poor job, it would have to do for the present. Back up the rickety ladder, he lifted the hatch into position. The old table went over the top. Anyone with half a brain could see it had been disturbed. If they looked, he prayed they wouldn’t bother with the spider-filled cellar. While taking another look around to make sure he hadn’t missed something, he wiped his hands on his pants. Outside, a quick perusal of the fields left him in no doubt. There wasn’t any seed in the ground. That might be for the best as cotton prices would probably bottom out. Buster turned to the trail. Once he had the rest of the money, he’d give thought to what to plant now. Getting the gold came first. He’d best get to moving on shank’s mare if he planned to reach the fort anytime soon. His stomach griped about the lack of food the entire first mile. With nothing but water on top of a few half-dead potatoes the night before, he felt lethargic. He didn’t want to stop. The urge to keep moving fired his brain, but his body felt as if he could sleep for a week. A walking staff might help, but he’d need to stop and find something to eat. He must. Spying a mud tower on the bank of the creek, he halted. Another spurt of mud came from the hole. A crawfish was busy digging a borrow. Food. Then a memory of his mother telling him about the crawfish surfaced. He shouldn’t eat it because it brought mud up from the depths and made the land. Superstition, he told himself. Why shouldn’t he eat the thing if he could get it out

of the hole? The old man had worked hard to educate the Indian out of Buster. Still, he ed lying next to her. She’d tell him other things, all in that soft voice. Squatting next to the bank, he peered into the clear water. Maybe he should try canoodling a fish. One little mud bug wouldn’t fill his gut. A bit beyond him, a large tree had come down across the creek. Fish liked to hole up in those shady spots when it was sunny out. He would need to wait a little while for the sun to get higher. The early morning chill hadn’t yet faded. As he watched, a fish came partially out of the water and nabbed a bug. If he had a pole and lure, it was the ideal time to try fishing. Since he didn’t, he must be patient. A smaller finned body propelled itself into the air. Buster grinned. Before the day was out, one of those would grease his chin. The three graves and his destroyed home came to mind again. Izzy hadn’t caused the damage. His brother hadn’t been that far ahead of him. The area looked as if it had sat there for a while. Had the old man received his letter? “Fuck me!” The letter. Abel and Leather begged him not to send it. Because they pushed, he did. The last time he’d made it home, the old man stayed drunk. He tried to talk to him and got nowhere. Turlough had taken a dive into the demijohn and wasn’t coming out. A few mosquitoes buzzed him, one drilling into his neck. Buster killed it and looked around for plantain. He only had to lean over to his left. After plucking a leaf, he bruised it and rubbed the bite. He pulled his cap tighter to avoid the bugs and his thoughts went back to Elysian Fields. A total wreck, the gold they had left him would help, but wasn’t enough. He meant to get the rest back from Izzy. The old man always said the Cherokee way of inheriting through the mother was all wrong. The oldest son should get everything. He agreed. Izzy. His brother’s birth had been the day everything changed. For some reason Buster never fathomed, Turlough hated the boy. Once Izzy started walking, it seemed as if his parents divided them into his and hers. The old man took him, and Mam got Izzy. , After the first time Buster got a hiding for asking to stay with Mam, Buster never asked again

The sun hit the spot he sat in, and the bugs slunk off to the shade of the trees behind him. A little warmer and he’d try for a fish. One way or another, he’d find Izzy and take back what was his starting with the gold. Lace would be next. So what if the slaves were free? Where were they going to stay? He’d get the lot back and they would rebuild the house. If anyone tried to get away, he’d lay for them and give them a good beating on the sly. They weren’t getting away that easy. If the old man had accidently burned the damn place to the ground, it didn’t much matter. It was all his and no one would cheat him out of it. For damn sure not Izzy. Buster grinned as he pulled off his boots. The kid was a traitor to the cause. As best he could figure it, being a traitor negated any promise he’d made to their mother about not hurting Izzy. He might let him live if he anted up the gold and the girl. With his pants rolled high, he stepped into the cold water. Time to get some food. Good at canoodling, it wouldn’t take him long to get one. Then he’d hightail it to the fort. Food first.

Chapter Eighteen

Doc and Izzy walked over to Big Lou. They would discuss supplies with the woman who’d fed everyone at Elysian Fields for years. Lace hurried over to Grandpa Joe. His stern expression didn’t alter when he tucked the pipe in a pocket of his ragged pants. She put a hand on his forearm. “Grandpa, y’all angry at Izzy?” He scrubbed a thin hand over his face. “Chile, I know Izzy ain’t to blame for our situation.” He tapped his temple. “’Times head knowledge don’t quite get to the heart. Miz Noya got caught between a rock and a hard place. But keeping us... I lost my son ‘cause of her.” Lace nodded. “You mean Juda. It wasn’t her fault. She was too sick to do anything then.” “Uh-huh. Since we were property—hers—wasn’t much we could do either. He and Satin should have been together. Juda shoulda been y’all’s pa, not that bastard.” “Grandpa, Izzy’s trying. He fought for your freedom; he shared the gold...” The old man waved a hand to silence her. “Don’t y’all think I see this? But damn it all to hell and gone, we never shoulda been in this predicament in the first damn place. Y’all see my point here? We woulda been happy to work for wages. Damn place coulda paid us. Just ‘cause the boy married y’all, don’t go turning y’all’s back on us. Y’all thinking about in for white?” Lace shook her head. “Nope. I wouldn’t do that.” “Even when it’ll make it easier on the young’uns? Y’all gonna acknowledge us when we get to this new place? ‘Cause I don’t care if the Rebs lost, they ain’t giving up so easy. Like we went underground helping our own, they gonna figure out ways to make us pay.”

“I did my part, didn’t I? When did I let y’all down? We got a few clear, didn’t we?” The old man looked down at his feet. He shuffled one foot forward and back in the soft dust. She waited for him to say something, anything. He couldn’t know Izzy had proposed she for white and she’d refused. He should trust that she would. “Y’all’s a good girl, little Lace Hannah. Satin raised y’all right.” “Mam helped. She made sure we can all read. Y’all know it’s against the law.” With a snort, Joe gave her a glance from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, she did,” he sighed. “And Miz Noya kept the bastard from doing worse things. He was a dab hand with that quirt. Messed Juda up right bad with the thing.” He glanced in Izzy’s direction. “The boy’s trying, I’ll give him that. But it fair galls the hell out of me. Those two gold pieces will go a long way toward setting the younguns up. Still, were we working for wages, how much might we have put together by now?” “Y’all aren’t thinking of backing out of...” “Naw. It makes sense. We can’t stay here. Like as not, Buster is coming to get all that’s due him, which includes the gold Izzy ed out and y’all.” He gave her a quick hug. “Go help y’all’s man. I’m gonna go see if I can get some fish for supper. With any luck, we’ll be on the trail tomorrow. Ain’t gonna be easy. We’ll need to live off the land best we can. Ain’t no bunch heading west gonna want to let us tag along. We’ll be on our own out there. I hear the other tribes been running wild during the war.” “I heard the same. With just one wagon and what little we got on pack animals, we’ll be harder to find.” He gave her a little push on one shoulder. “Y’all go help them. I got fish to catch.” Turning away, Lace thought about Joe’s words. The wild tribes to the west of them were doing their best to take back their land. It wouldn’t work; they simply didn’t know that yet. In their desperation, they were only going to make things

worse. Grandpa Joe was correct. The slave holders weren’t going to let go easily. She shuddered; look at what Turlough had done when he heard the Confederacy lost. He and Izzy agreed on one thing—they must leave Cherokee Nation and never return. Lace leaned into Izzy, and he put an arm around her. The three people discussed what the party would need for the trip. Lace listened with one ear. What would the future hold for them? Could they live unmolested anywhere? She promised herself to never go back on her word to Grandpa Joe, to never take the easy way out and forget where she came from. Never. His question, the one about her children, stuck in her craw. Speaking for herself was easy, children were another matter. Escape from Elysian Fields didn’t guarantee a decent life elsewhere. There were factors no one could control. Greater forces pushed on people; she knew it. Noise erupted behind them. A horse galloped toward the tents. Everyone turned to see Abel pull his mount to a halt as he yelled something. “What?” Izzy hollered. “Lincoln’s dead! Some actor killed him.” Abel ran up, his eyes wild. “Sweet Jesus!” Big Lou moaned. “There’re gonna put us all in chains again. We ain’t never gonna be free.” Izzy gave her a little shake. “No. I don’t see that happening. The Rebs are too far gone. But we gotta get our behinds out of here. And wherever we settle, we need to keep any political stuff quiet. The President had some grand plans, but there’s too much opposition. Y’all best believe the Rebs are gonna take advantage of his death any way they can.” He turned to Abel. “Y’all got the animals?” “Uh-huh. Leather got a couple of kids to help; the boys wanna go with. They’re driving them this way now. I saw the fort buzzing like a bunch of hornets and stopped to ask. Damn, I hated to hear that.”

“Anyone with any sense would.” Izzy kicked at a rock with the toe of his boot. “We need damn pack saddles, saddles for folk to ride. Where are we going to get everything?” “Not to worry about that. Leather, me, and those boys can fix up something from the woods for the packs. We only need rope. The rest can ride bareback. Getting clear needs to happen. I’m thinking we needed to be gone yesterday.” “Yeah, we’re off to gather supplies. Get the packs taken care of. If we have to go with no saddles, then we do. Tomorrow morning, rain or shine, we’re gone.” “We’ll get it done,” Abel said. Izzy nodded acknowledgement. “Send one of the boys or Leather to the store. I’ll buy the rope first. Explain to everyone what happened. Since Doc sold his house, we’ll all be staying here tonight.” He took Lace’s hand and waved Doc Allen on. “Let’s go get supplies before everything’s gone. There’s likely gonna be a run on stuff in case.” “You’re right.” Doc turned toward where he’d tied the horses. “Let’s hurry while there still stock to buy.” She’d known something horrid was about to happen. Lace didn’t bother saying anything. Almost the worst thing she could have imagined, Lincoln’s murder stood at the top of her list, next to Buster finding them before they could leave.

Chapter Nineteen

He shouldn’t have taken an extra day to rest. Buster knew it, but couldn’t help himself. The fish he canoodled barely took the edge off his hunger. He had to have another. Much as he wanted the lot of them to pay for what they’d done, he had to have the strength to make it happen. Almost to the point where the creek entered the river, he stopped. The slightly acrid smell of smoke, a lot of it, hung in the air. Set a little back from the river and the creek, a family had been living there for a while. The scent carried on the light breeze seemed to be more than a cooking fire. Buster stepped back behind a screen of brush and considered what he should do next. He’d heard that raiders from both sides had been taking advantage of the lack of law to seize what they pleased. With the war winding down, some of those men would continue to pillage and rob. Thankful he’d buried his share of the gold, Buster reviewed what he recalled of the place in his head. Having hunted as far down river as the fort, he was familiar with the terrain. He could sneak through the trees and investigate. Best to know what happened. Soon, he hoped to rebuild and he didn’t want some raggedy-assed lout taking everything and burning him out. If the damn bluejackets were in control, they would need to take responsibility for keeping the peace. The frown cleared and he grinned. As a landowner, he’d hold the Cherokee Council responsible. Turlough had no power as a white man married to a Cherokee woman. But as her son, he did. Considered Cherokee through Noya, he could put pressure on them. That fine thought went a long way to improving his mood. Now, what to do about the possible danger between him and the fort? With food in his gut and knowledge of the area, he’d best take a quick scouting trip. Buster worked his way through the woods quietly. He came at the clearing more from the southeast. If caught, he didn’t want anyone backtracking him. Taking even a slim chance on losing his money wasn’t going to happen.

Boots off and hung around his neck, Buster crawled carefully to the top of a little rise overlooking the meadow where he knew a farm to be. One of the backward of the tribe who eschewed the white man’s ways, the old man had still built a nice little house for his womenfolk. The meadow no longer held anything of value. Every building nothing more than a pile of burned timbers and ash; what had been a pretty place was no more. Still, he suspected deep inside the debris, coals still smoldered. Off to his right, five men sat around a fire. Picketed near the trees he counted ten horses. They planned to carry what loot they’d scrounged off on the pack animals. Buster wondered if the horses’ reins were tied to the picket line or if it was ed through them. He wanted one of those horses. Buster backed down the rise and picked his way around the men enjoying themselves at the fire. Keeping low to the ground, he dropped to his stomach and began to crawl on, leaving the shelter of the knoll. Laughter got a little rowdier around the fire. Buster assumed they had liquor. He sure as hell hoped so. That would keep them busy. Back in the shelter of the trees, he crouched low as he navigated around several berry bushes. He dropped to his belly again and used both elbows to pull his body around a tree trunk and under the edge of a large bush. The hand on his mouth and the knife at his throat came as a complete surprise. An instant of quick calculation told him whoever had him couldn’t be one of the men. They would have hauled him up and made a show of his capture. The soft whisper in his ear caused a short huff of surprise. The female voice hissed, “Ya ain’t taking those horses alone. I mean to have one. Since yur sneaking around same as me, I’d guess they aren’t part of yur bunch.” As careful as he could, Buster turned his head from side to side. The blade she held bit in a little. “Ya help me get my horse back, I’ll help ya get one. I’m guessing we both want the same thing—grab a mount and scatter the rest.” Her weight eased from his back slightly. “I’m gonna let ya go. Don’t try nothing.

I’ll slit yur gullet before ya can move. Roll over on yur back. Keep it nice and easy.” Her hand lifted from his mouth and her body slid off to the side. Not the side toward the tree. He could have pinned her against the trunk. Whoever the girl was, she knew what she was doing. With him on his back, she could gut him in a heartbeat. When he rolled over, he got his first look at the girl. No, make that woman who squatted within arm’s length. Careful to use the hand farthest from her, he motioned toward the thicker woods behind them. She gave a silent nod, rose and... vanished into the shadows. Buster flipped on his belly and scuttled backward. Bent over, he went in the direction he had indicated. As soon as he could walk upright without fear of discovery, he checked his throat. He hadn’t felt anything dripping and hoped she hadn’t really cut him. Buster barely had time to turn before he found himself pushed against a tree. The sharp point of her knife dimpled his jacket. Dark eyes glared at him. “What ya doing here? Who...” “Adsila?” She nodded. “It’s me, Buster MacCullough. What the hell happened?” Adsila took a step back and stared at him. “Ya grew some.” She tugged at his beard. “Got chin whiskers, too.” A deep sigh escaped the woman. “I was out hunting the cow. Never did find her. They burned everything, killed my folks.” “Where are the boys?” Her chin dropped to her chest, the hand holding the knife went to her side. “Haven’t heard nothing from them since they ed up. I heard ya went Reb.” The fingers of her left hand picked at his jacket. “I did. They went Union?”

Her chin came up and she nodded while giving him a hard stare. “What of it?” “Nothing. Not a damn thing. Elysian Fields is gone, nothing but ashes. Looks like we can help each other here. We can’t go against all five of them, but we can take the horses and put those lice on foot. Y’all game?” “Maybe. We get horses, I’ll go to the fort and see if we can’t get that trash rounded up. Leastwise, we’ve still got the land.” She turned and he followed her deeper into the forest. She’d made a rough camp under a tree where a thicket of berry bushes presented a natural barrier to man and animal. He had to ire her handiwork. Sitting under the tree, surrounded by the noise of the small forest creatures, he relaxed. The last time he saw her, Adsila had been a gawky, awkward girl. That had changed. “What happened at yur place? I heard yur Pa burned it down.” Her soft whisper caused his stomach to roll. “Doc Allen took all the slaves back to Gibson. Ya brother know?” Buster reached for the canteen and opened it to get a drink. “He knows. Izzy got home before me.” “Guess ya gonna make it without slaves now. That bunch...,” Adsila waved a hand back toward where the raiders sat in her home clearing. “They said the war is over, all but the shouting. I’ve been stalking them for hours.” “That’s so. Let’s figure out how to get all the horses and leave them on shanks’ mare. If the soldiers at the fort can get them, that would be best.” The dress she wore made of tanned hide blended in with the underbrush and the shadows. He could see where the woman could easily evade the idiots sitting there counting their plunder. She moved like a deer, the animal that had provided the hides she wore. Not having had a woman in a long time, he thought about making a move on her. Talk from his pa said the traditional girls looked at men a lot different than those better educated. Then again, he thought better of it. Adsila knew how to use the knife. He’d made it this far without injury; it would be a damn shame to come

home and have some girl cut him. “Do they have a jug?” Buster asked. Adsila grinned. “They do. The lice found Ma’s jug she kept for medicinal purposes. They’ve been sucking on it. They’ll sleep like babies tonight. Ma added valerian root to the liquor. We won’t have a lick of trouble taking the horses. Come to think on it, I’ll split them with you, fifty-fifty.” Buster ed her the canteen. “It’s a deal. What the hell is ‘valerian root’? After a sip of water, she handed it back. “Help’s someone sleep when they’ve been injured.” A hand over his mouth stifled the laugh that tried to bubble up. “We could probably slit all their throats and they’d never know the difference.” “I thought about it, but didn’t want to chance it since it was just me. Ya want to give it a try, I’m willing. They owe me a blood debt.” The way she said it, Buster knew the woman across from him wasn’t putting him on. Did he want to? Maybe he did. By the time they got to the fort, the lot could be long gone. They were murderers, it would be just comeuppance. “Yeah. They do owe you. I’ll help you collect.” The woman smiled and reached out for a rock he hadn’t noticed. With a wad of spit on the top of the stone, she began to sharpen her knife.

Chapter Twenty

The rudimentary pack frames made from branches hacked from the surrounding forest lay behind the tents. With no sign of rain in the offing, Lace and Izzy bedded down behind the tents and under Doc Allen’s wagon. As Big Lou advised, they divided the stores so everyone would have something. They all worked far into the night by the light of the fire to get it done. Together, they collapsed on the bedroll laid out over a canvas ground sheet. Izzy chuckled into her ear saying he thought this might happen. Far too tired, he had to forego husbandly rights for the night. She heard nothing more until the dawn chorus of birds and a rooster here and there. The small settlement, crowded around the fort like chicks around a hen, would soon come to life. Izzy’s arm around her moved slightly. The unfamiliar weight felt good, safe. She hadn’t felt comfortable for years, too many. If she hadn’t been dodging Turlough, it had been Buster. Once Buster went off to fight for the Rebels, steering clear of Turlough was easy. What she would do if Izzy didn’t come home had eaten away at her. Escape using the underground railroad would have been the only option left open. Between them, she and Grandpa Joe had helped a few to freedom. The tiny little room beneath the cabin, reached only by the ladder from the attic to below ground, couldn’t hold more than two people. It had done so a time or two. She wasn’t sure if Joe had managed any by himself before she started helping. If it hadn’t been Izzy who rode up to the cabin, she planned to get down into the cavity and hide out until whoever it was left. Buster surely would have checked Grandpa Joe’s cabin for signs of life. She’d thanked God profusely that it had been Izzy who turned up first. She should go help Big Lou. As soon as everyone had a helping of gruel, they would pack everything and leave. Izzy had made sure they had their own tent. She appreciated the thought, but hoped they could sleep out now and again. The

tent would be cramped and dark. Lace lifted the end of the ticking and slipped out from under Izzy’s arm. He groaned, “Damnation! I ache all over.” “Stay there,” she whispered. “When coffee’s ready, I’ll come for you.” She slipped the dress over her head with a grin. It was the first store-bought thing she’d ever owned. With a comb and four new hair ribbons, Lace felt like a queen. There was enough ticking for an apron, and she meant to sew one up in the evening when they camped. He’d bought her a set of long johns like his. She didn’t intend to wear them unless it became too cold to go without. They scratched her skin and made her itch. Izzy didn’t know it yet, but she wasn’t having relations with him with those still on. When they got done, she’d be a scratching mess. They’d get to that problem later. With the weather warming, the shift she wore beneath the dress would do. Fact was, she was thinking about discarding it when the nights got hot. Having done without fripperies, she wasn’t sure she needed or wanted any. Izzy insisted on buying her boots. She had them bundled up with the other things he thought they needed. Lace planned to save them for when they got to California. She might need to present a better appearance when they settled somewhere. Having like new boots would be a good thing. She’d run around in bare feet for years and planned to do so until they lit somewhere. Big Lou had enough wood to boil coffee and gruel. She’d seen to that the night before. This morning, the two of them would get grub ready and feed everyone once the men had loaded their gear. Behind the fire, Grandpa Joe worked to get the tent he and Big Lou shared down and ready to pack. With a shake of her head, she tried to ignore his difficulties. The old man would get irritable if she said anything. “Morning, Lou.” Lace squatted to push coals from the flaming wood beneath the big pot. Another, smaller pot sat to the side. Its short legs allowed Lace to push more coals beneath it with the same stick. When the flames came too close to

where she held the burning branch, Lace jammed it under the large cooking pot. “How you and Grandpa making out? Gotta say it surprised me to find you two sharing a tent.” Lou bent over to give the pot another stir. “Joe don’t snore near as bad as my man did.” The older woman went quiet. Big Lou never said much about him and Lace never asked. Big Lou’s man had died on the trail to Cherokee Nation. Louann and Joe sharing a tent was for the best since neither of them had a helpmate. As the coffee boiled in the smaller pot, Izzy came around the tent Grandpa Joe was trying to take down. With his twisted fingers, he had a hard time coping with knots. Once Izzy had it down, they got it folded up and ready to load. Finished, he smiled at her before going to help Jem. Abel and Leather, having been with Buster in the conflict, knew about tents. As soon as the tents were ready for the pack horses, everyone came over to get coffee and food. Leather and Izzy finished first. Tansy took both their bowls and cups. Breakfast over with, Big Lou and Lace hauled the pots to the river to clean and cool them. Sal and Tansy took care of the utensils. The sun spread over the land and lit up the line of mounted people. Izzy said they were making for Fort Dodge. It was the place where the Santa Fe Trail split from the Cherokee Trail. From Santa Fe, they would make for California. The entire journey would take months. Lace prayed they would all survive. She’d heard the story of the Trail of Tears. At least they didn’t have the Army making a forced march of it. Still, the weather, the terrain... it wouldn’t be an easy journey. The good part, they had three strong men to hunt and protect them and a doctor to see to their ills. Others might not want to allow them to travel with their party, but they might let them stay close enough to act as some protection when they learned they had a real doctor in their group. Because of living with and around the Cherokee, all of them had some basic knowledge of how to survive in the wilderness. Another good thing Lace could point to.

They were getting an early start and were slightly ahead of those starting from Independence. For all that, she intended to pray every night for their success. Having survived Turlough, it wouldn’t be fair for them to not reach the destination as free men and women. One other matter couldn’t be left out. Lace asked God to stop Buster from following them. He had a farm to see to; chasing after them wouldn’t do him a lick of good. He should get the ground turned and the garden in. Would he see reason? She feared it all depended on how far he followed in Turlough’s tracks.

Chapter Twenty-One

They were all dead. The crazy woman had slit their throats while the raiders slept. All she’d required from him was to make sure no one woke and shot her. Buster shook his head. He’d promised to help, but never really thought Adsila would go through with the plan. She leaned over and wiped her knife on a coat belonging to one of them. “Come daylight, let’s drag them back in the woods. There’s an old camp close to Ranger Creek on this side. We leave ‘em there and no one will be the wiser where they died once the grass covers this spot.” “Yeah, sure.” He watched her pile wood on the dying fire. “What y’all doing now?” “I wanna see what they got in them packs. I’m certain they robbed and killed elsewhere. So, what did they make off with? I’ll take the bay; you grab the pack from the sorrel. Let’s see what they’ve got in those.” Buster followed her over to the horses. She should do something about the blood on her hands and the leather dress she wore. Thinking about it, what could she do? The raiders had burned her out. He shrugged. She sure as hell wasn’t going to find any women’s clothing. A damn sight stronger than she looked, Adsila lifted the pack from the bay and hauled it over to the fire, now burning bright. When she pulled it apart, several canvas bags fell to the side. “Well, now. Look here. There’s a pair of pants. I’m gonna claim them. And here...,” She opened the drawstring and peered inside a roughly sewn bag. “Damn. There’s money in this one.” “I’ve got some jerky and hardtack in this one.” He reached for another bag after stuffing a piece of jerky in his mouth.

“Give me a piece of that jerky. I’m starving over here. And... well, there are a couple of pieces of jewelry mixed with the coins. I don’t care about that. Maybe I’ll take those to the fort and let them find the owners.” “Best think again.” Buster snorted. “How the hell you gonna explain killing them and what about the money? Here.” He tossed her the jerky. “Mumm.” She stuffed it in her mouth and began chewing. “Five men against one woman, what’s to explain? I didn’t even doctor the liquor. They swilled what they stole, and it put them to sleep. That allowed me to kill the lot. So what?” “What about the money? You never answered me.” He opened another bag. “I’ve got some gold coins here.” “How much ya figure?” Buster spilled the pouch on the shirt he’d found. “Six, no seven fifty dollar gold pieces.” “I’ll make ya a deal. We split the gold and give the silver and jewelry to the commander of the fort. Anyone looking for gold will figure they buried it.” In the firelight, she continued to rummage through the pack. Buster watched her; his hands rested on another bag he hadn’t opened. Her dark eyes reflected the flames and almost glowed. Then she smiled. Chills broke out on his arms. If he hadn’t known her from before, he’d think he encountered an evil spirit. “You can’t be serious.” “Why not? If it hadn’t been for us killing this ball of snakes, there wouldn’t be anything for anyone.” “Us? Y’all slit their throats.” “Us. Ya made sure none of them woke and shot me before they got their just reward.” “How can I trust y’all? What if y’all decide to blame it all on me?” “It’s still five against one even if I did, which I’m not about to do. They had guns. Cutting all five of their throats means we didn’t. I can’t see anyone finding

fault with what was done here. The lot were dangerous men. They killed my family.” “Well... put that way.” “There’s no other way to see it.” She glanced down at the bags he’d been inspecting. “Get that done.” She lifted her chin at him. “We need to make piles of what we’re going to hide and what’s going to the fort with us.” “I’ve got to get to the fort tomorrow. I can’t fool around with this all day.” “What’s the hurry? Ya can’t take the slaves back, they’re free now. We find more gold; we can split it and maybe ya can hire what ya need.” Her words made sense. But it wasn’t all about the slaves. Izzy needed to hurt for a lot of reasons. One of them being Lace. “That snot owes me.” Adsila stood and brushed off her hands. “I’m going for another pack. Which snot owes ya? Izzy, Abel, Leather?” He thought about the three of them as she walked to the horses and grabbed another pack. The swish of her skirt through the grass brought his head up. The bundle hit the ground and she collapsed beside it. “All three of them.” “Do tell.” She turned his way again and tossed another large branch on the fire. “Seems to me maybe ya might owe Abel and Leather. They worked for nothing more than bed and board.” Her family never owned slaves, Buster reminded himself, before he lit into her. The girl didn’t understand. “They don’t have the intelligence to govern themselves. Without us to keep them on the right track, God knows the mischief they’ll get into.” He heard the clinking of the gold inside the pouch before she opened it and poured the coins, four, into her palm. “Ya know, ya ain’t ever gonna be a white man. Far as it goes, yur always gonna be just another unreliable savage. Another redskin.”

Fists clenched; he fought the urge to slap her. “Y’all don’t know nothing. My pa’s family has land in Scotland.” She huffed. He knew she concealed a laugh. “Scotland ain’t nothing here. Ya know what they call white men who marry Indian women?” She didn’t wait for him to answer the question. “Yur pa was a squaw-man. What’s back there means nothing here. Now that there’s no reason to jolly ya along, all of it is gonna come down on ya. I understand all about MacCullough and his ilk looking down on us ‘traditionals’ cause we know what’s what. We aren’t any better than the lowest slave unless we got gold to wave around. When they’ve got it all, we go right back in the little hut in their minds. Ya ain’t White, Buster. Ya ain’t never gonna be White. Best ya figure it out now.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Don’t know which would be worse, the northern tribes or the southern? Either one gets us, it’s like to go worse with me being Cherokee.” Abel rode on one side of him and Leather on the other. Once they got across the Neosho, they would follow the Arkansas up to Fort Zarah. The Neosho narrowed above Fort Gibson, making it easier to cross. But they had to travel north... in the direction Buster would ride to reach the fort. That bit of knowledge kept him on the alert. “Yep. Ain’t looking forward to getting noticed by any of ‘em.” Leather adjusted his weight in the saddle. “Swear to God, we get caught, I’ll shoot my woman and child. I hear the tribes are on a killing spree. Not that they ain’t got cause.” Saddle leather creaked. Izzy took a glance over his shoulder. They rode a bit ahead of the group. Abel and Leather wanted to talk. They were apprehensive and he felt the same. “We all got cause.” Abel sighed. “Damned English. “I agree.” He glanced at Abel then Leather. “That’s what the English have been doing forever. Using divisions against us to overwhelm and conquer. But we need to stick to a couple of things. No ridge riding. Keep to the bottoms as much as possible. I don’t care if y’all got a wounded animal on the run, no chasing over a ridge. Stick to the grass and the trees where we can. Since we’ve only the one wagon, it won’t be too hard to keep from leaving a dust column. We need to stay out of sight as much as we can.” “I’m gonna check the stock every night and maybe at nooning. Picking up a stone or twisting something might lay us up for a couple of days. We should keep moving,” Leather said. “Y’all ain’t said nothing I don’t agree with. Damn, I wish we had a couple spare horses,” Izzy said.

“We cleaned the old man out. Horse flesh is gonna be hard to find for a bit. I’m thinking a bunch of us are gonna be looking for other places to live than the Confederate States.” Leather glanced at his friend then his half-brother. “The lot of us are between a rock and a hard place.” “Uh-huh. The very reason we’re pointing our noses in the direction of a bunch of savages who’d as soon torture every last one of us. What they’d do to the womenfolk... that don’t bear thinking about.” Abel turned, his gaze seeking his wife and child in the column behind them. “I ain’t happy about this damn journey at all, but don’t see much choice.” “The women are praying the Lord puts a cloak of invisibility over us.” With a grunt, Leather did as Abel had. Spotting Tansy, he gave her a brief wave. “By the time we get to California, every hair on my head is gonna be gray.” The other two men laughed. “That’s old age. Y’all ain’t no spring chicken,” Abel teased him. Izzy didn’t respond. He understood the chance they were taking. And it wasn’t all due to his need to flee Buster. Lincoln’s death could loose the more vehement of the north on the rebels. That would lead to reprisals against the least able to protect themselves. Indians sat square in the middle of that category. What the chaplain said about the government made sense. It didn’t take a scholar to figure out with the reduction of the Cherokee after raids from both sides, the government would move to take away more land. The wild tribes were about to find out that the hiatus had ended. With the war over, there would be people ready to move west to claim land. They were like a flea infestation on a dog—increasing and ready to hop to another animal. Another reason to be as far from the seat of power as a body could get. “Y’all know one of these days the tribes are gonna be forced to take what the government dishes out?” Izzy asked. “Yep,” Abel replied. “And the railroad is gonna expand this way. That happens, there’ll be settlers by the hundreds moving this direction from the cities. The east is full of those ready to take a chance. They’re as bad off as we are.”

“Hush!” Leather said. Then he grumbled under his breath. “Times are changing. There’s no way around it.” “We gotta change with them or the tide is gonna wipe us out.” Izzy rose in the stirrups and looked ahead. “We got a river to cross. Two in fact. Thank God they ain’t in flood.” Leather took a glance as Izzy had. “I say we get the wagon across first. It should always be what we deal with first. I’d be plumb tickled if Doc Allen left the wagon. I understand he needs it. Truth is, we’re likely to need it too, what with old folk and women. And it’s a blessing to have a doctor, our own. Ain’t no one gonna deny us when he’s in our party.” Abel laughed. “We rightly hold the cards there.” Rising in his saddle, Abel eyed the river in front of them. “From what I see, we’re about to take on our first crossing. We ain’t gonna go up to the ferry, it’s best to sneak across so no one can say where we went.” Abel sighed. “I’m thinking we’re all three gonna get wet.” “Agreed.” Izzy waved everyone over to him. “We’ve got several other crossings to make. I wish we could take the time to caulk the wagon bed. It would make things a sight easier.” “Uh-huh. And if wishes were fishes,” Leather teased as they waited for the wagon to come up. Abel explained they would let the wagon go first from here as it would be the first to ford the river. Leaving Abel to deal with that, Izzy rode back to meet the doctor. Thor danced a little on his front feet. Izzy patted him on the neck to calm the horse. Then he spoke to the doctor. “We’re thinking it’s best to get the wagon across the river first. Once that’s done, we’ll get everyone else over.” “Sounds reasonable. What do you want me to do?” With his doctor clothing off and dressed rough, he looked capable enough. Izzy nodded. “I’m thinking to have Abel and Leather cross and take the ropes with ‘em after we tie off to the wagon. They can help pull it over.”

“What about you?” The two mules pulling the wagon relaxed in the early morning sun. “I’m planning to ride the wagon.” “You can swim, right?” Doc Allen asked. “Sure. Not that it’ll be necessary. The wagon isn’t fully loaded. I just wish we had time to caulk it. Still, without a heavy weight in it, it’s not going to sink right away.” “Caulk it. That hadn’t occurred to me. Can we stop anywhere and take care of it?” “Nope. We don’t have the time now and we don’t want to set in one place too long. That’s asking for someone to find us and start trouble.” “A shame. Alright, you’re the boss here. Whatever you say.” “Let’s get you down there and get this first crossing over with. By the time it’s done, we’ll have a better idea of what to expect down the trail.” Without a word, Doc flicked the reins and the two mules leaned into the harness. Izzy hoped it went easy. The less trouble now, the more likely everyone else would feel comfortable and trust them to lead.

Chapter Twenty-Three

As the men readied the wagon for the crossing, everyone dismounted and waited in the shade. Lace watched them. They needed Doc Allen and he needed what was in the wagon. He had packed carefully, taking only those things he felt he must have. Still, getting a wagon across the Neosho wouldn’t be easy. To find a place to ford the river, they had traveled north. She prayed hard for two things. First, that they get across the river with no mishaps and second, that Buster cut across country rather than follow the river. They could be riding right into the man. Skittish, she never let her eyes stay on one thing too long. Lace felt like a longtailed cat beneath a rocking chair, waiting to get hurt. Abel and Leather swam their horses across the river, accompanied by the two young Cherokee boys who’d chosen to tag along. Not at spring flood stage, the water still hadn’t gone down as far as it would later in the summer. The ropes, long ones bought by Izzy for this purpose, went across to the other bank. The ends tied to the mules’ harnesses were supposed to help pull them across if the animals got into trouble. What concerned her was Izzy’s intention to ride one of the mules to encourage it should the animal falter. Izzy could swim. She knew this. Most of the old folk didn’t know how, never having had the opportunity to learn. Thanks to Mam’s insistence that children be allowed to fish in the creek and forage instead of working in the fields, she and both half-brothers could swim. But they had learned in a creek; this was a deep river. One not to be trifled with. The plan was simple—get the wagon across the river before it filled with water. Wood floated. The body of the wagon would, to a degree. But the cargo it carried meant that it would eventually get waterlogged and sink if they took too long. Tying the ropes to the mules would allow Abel and Leather to add their animals’ power to that of the mules harnessed to the wagon. By all rights, they should cut

down a couple of trees to use as a raft to get the wagon over to the other side, but she knew they couldn’t take the time to do so in case Buster happened along. A MacCullough causing trouble... one more time. She hoped never to see the man again. She wouldn’t wish him harm. Lace did pray he chose to stay on his beloved Elysian Fields for the rest of his natural life. He could rot there for all she cared if he left the rest of them alone. Lace doubted he would be reasonable. If only Turlough hadn’t burned the place to the ground. Then Buster would have been busy working the land without help. That thought brought a smile to her face, although it didn’t stay for long. The men had the wagon hooked up. Izzy got on the back of the younger mule, and she put a hand to her mouth to keep from screaming at him to get down. Wasn’t it enough to have them attached to the horses on the far bank? Probably not. Grandpa Joe gave her a hug. “Don’t get to worrying. Them boys know what they’re doing.” She shook her head. “Mules are stronger than horses. They might pull the horses off into the water.” “Not if they’re swimming. We need to stay shut over here and let them get on with it.” He took hold of her hand and squeezed. She figured it might be best to do as he said. Grandpa Joe wasn’t against a sharp crack across the head when a child was disobedient. She didn’t want anyone seeing his irritation with her and kept quiet. Not easy to do when Doc Allen drove the wagon down the sloping bank and into the water. The spot the men picked didn’t drop off into deep water when the large wheels slipped into the current. Seeing that made it a little easier to breathe. Then the mules were swimming with Izzy holding on to the larger one’s harness. Abel and Leather urged their horses forward. One of the mules brayed. Her hand tightened on Grandpa Joe’s. Water lapped at the sides of the wagon and the rear end began to slowly sink into

the rushing water. But the large mule seemed to have found purchase for his front feet and a few seconds later, the smaller one got his footing. Izzy gave a victory shout as both animals came out of the water. Neither Abel nor Leather stopped pulling until the soaked mules and dripping wagon stood on the far bank. Good. Even so, she wouldn’t breathe easier until everyone made it safe and sound to the other side of the river. It proved to be both difficult and exhausting for the men. Abel and Leather crossed to their side and ferried their babies over while leading the mules both Sal and Tansy rode. Izzy made sure Grandpa Joe got to the other side then went back for Big Lou. That done, they moved away from the river and into the rolling country beyond. When she could no longer see the Neosho, Lace took a deep breath. The crossing had gone better than she expected. Redbone proved to be a strong swimmer. The took her to the other bank with no trouble. Her thoughts turned to Buster. Away from the river and out of sight, he wouldn’t spot them if he turned up. She didn’t care where the man was so long as it wasn’t on their trail. Before they stopped for a nooning, what little roll the terrain had turned flat. That bothered her. When they stopped to rest the animals and themselves, the only one who had any idea of what lay ahead was the doctor. Her father by law sat next to her in the shade. “This is part of the Great Plains. We won’t get into the mountains for a long time.” “Won’t we be easy to spot?” She waved a hand at the flats before them. “Not so much when we get farther west and out of the river valleys. The plains aren’t exactly flat; they roll. In some places more than others.” “That’s what Izzy meant when he said to stay in the bottoms?” “It is. We’re to ride in the swales between the ridges. We’ll talk about what route to take tonight. If we want to avoid everyone we could go across country. We aren’t going to find any parties going our way if we take the direct route.” He must have seen something on her face. Fear, she guessed. “Now, don’t worry. We’ll figure it all out.” With a pat on her shoulder, he rose and went over to the

wagon. Lace wrung her hands. She wondered if she should learn to shoot.

They hadn’t gone too many miles when the men held a short, hurried conference brought on by Doc Allen. Izzy agreed. It made sense to camp there and decide what to do next. The small meadow surrounded by trees seemed a good spot. The stream meandering through would provide water for them and the animals without need for a trip to the Verdigris. After a quick meal of rice and Johnny cakes, the talk began. Izzy let Doc Allen start. He thought the others, Joe for sure, would place more value on his opinion. It didn’t hurt that his pa... that gave him pause for an instant, had been on the Santa Fe Trail once. The man’s wanderlust would serve them well. Lace next to him, the doctor on the other side, Izzy sat across the dying fire from Joe. “We got a choice to make and thought it best to spend the night here. It’s either north or south from this point. We could go all the way up to the Oregon Trail then split off for California. Or maybe take it as far as the Cimmaron Cutoff and head for Santa Fe, trailing a larger party. Then again, we can drop south, follow the Canadian River as far as it goes and trek through the mountains to Santa Fe. From there, it makes sense to pick up the Santa Fe Trail into California.” Izzy paused and waited for the inevitable question. He didn’t have a long wait. “What y’all know about it? Y’all ain’t never been that way,” Joe said. “True. But we got someone here who has. Doc Allen can answer your questions better.” Izzy nodded to the doctor. “I’ve been on it. When I was younger, I had an itch to see things. Being a curious sort and not sure if or where I might want to settle, I asked a lot of questions.” Joe exchanged glances with those on either side of him. “How dangerous are the routes?” he asked. “Depends. Lately, more than they were before the tribes began to be squeezed by settlers. The war kept the Army occupied with the insurrection. The tribes may have seen that as an opportunity to take back what they’ve lost. Before, they liked to trade for goods. Now, they’re likely to attack and kill for what they need.” “That don’t help.”

“Sorry, I’m not trying to confuse anyone. First, let me state I only know about the Oregon or Cherokee Trail as far as Fort Mann. From there, I made my way to Fort Gibson and found a reason to stay. But I did take the Santa Fe Trail from California to Fort Mann. So, I know something of the country.” Doc fell silent and waited. Joe turned to Leather. “What y’all think?” Izzy found that interesting. Joe was looking to Leather. Did he want him to take over as leader? Leather, darker than either Abel or Lace, wasn’t of the MacCullough line. Satin was pregnant when bought by his grandfather and gave birth to Leather shortly after. Although older than Izzy by eleven years, the two always got along. Abel was only a year older than Izzy and Lace. Leather became the official baby minder as soon as the three of them were old enough to start running wild. Even with a difficult father... no, step-father, and horrid older brother, it had been a good childhood. The three of them had fished, learned to swim in the creek, hunted and learned to read together. He reached for Lace and meshed their fingers. “If I understand y’all right, we’d need to go further north to hit the Santa Fe Trail and hope to find a party willing to let us tag along. What’s the other two options liable to bring us?” Leather asked. “We could do that. Maybe one would let us tag along, maybe not. There would be more people which gives the tribes a few choices. Would we find one large enough to deter any raids? But if they let us trail them, how close? Would we become their sacrificial goat? “The other option is to head south, make for either the Cimmaron or South Fork of the Canadian River, and go it alone. With less of us and only the one wagon, we might sneak by easier if the tribes are concentrating their efforts on the main trail. We’re smaller and can stick to the valleys without raising a huge column of dust that would give away our position. However, if they find us, we might not survive a sustained attack.” Leather nodded. “Like always, damned if we do and damned if we don’t.” “Not quite,” Izzy broke in. “We’ve learned some in the war. Like not to ride ridges, how to cover a trail. And there’s other stuff we already knew—how to

build a fire that will cook quick and not put out too much smoke, how to hide it when done.” “Y’all think we should strike out alone.” Abel said. “I do. Why should be act as someone’s decoy? They would take Doc in without a qualm. We’re a different matter. I figure the hell with them all and we’d be safer on our own. Y’all want to talk it over; we’ll take a walk.” “Nope.” Leather grinned at him. “To my mind, the only question is which river is best to follow.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

As the sun went down, Lace picked a spot beneath a tree some distance from the main party. Izzy stayed behind to help Grandpa Joe and Big Lou set up their tent. The others managed with a bit of help from either Leather or Abel. She took the roll of bedding wrapped in a ground sheet and laid it to the side. Lace kicked the larger rocks out of the way; the smaller ones would need to be removed by hand. Lace wanted to bed down a little away from them for privacy. Izzy found her on her knees, brushing rocks away from the spot she’d picked. She heard him walk up. “Why so far away, wife? Afraid we might make too much noise?” She looked up those long legs and felt her face flame. If the worst day of her life came when watching the house burn knowing Ma and Mam were in there; the best followed. Sitting in Grandpa’s cabin, reading that Izzy wasn’t Turlough’s son, freed her in ways Izzy couldn’t understand. Loving Izzy as she did twisted her up inside with guilt and shame. Still, she’d made her mind up. If her choice was Buster and shame or Izzy and shame, Izzy won. No longer a boy, four years in the war had toughened him, refined his young muscles. Sitting back on her heels, she smiled up at her man. “I’m not ready to listen to Sal and Tansy half the night. What did you do with the boys? I don’t think Jake and Kanuna are ready to listen either. And they’re not bedding down over here.” He squatted and his hand cradled her chin. “We agree. I’m not in the mood for company either. The boys are under the wagon with Doc.” His thumb stroked her jaw. “Let’s get this done. I’m ready to get cozy.” In the dying light, his eyes were dark. The muscle in his jaw tightened, but his touch remained gentle. “Get that hat and those boots off, mister. I won’t have our bedding dirty before

we even start.” “Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a casual salute. Lace nodded. The man pleased her to no end. She stood and worked the buttons on the dress loose without looking at him. When she took a quick glance, Lace chuckled. Down to his union suit, Izzy was folding his clothes to use as a pillow. She intended to do the same. First, there was one more thing. “Get that scratchy thing off. I’m not cozying up to anyone wearing something that makes my skin itch.” Wearing a wide grin, he went to work on the buttons.

The world came awake slowly. Snug in the blankets wrapped around her and Izzy, Lace listened for any sign that the others were moving. Nothing but the call of birds could be heard. Izzy’s arm resting on her body felt wonderful. No matter how bad things got, they had each other. “Stop thinking so hard. I don’t hear a soul stirring yet.” “That’s what I was thinking. Izzy, this is going to be the hardest thing any of us have ever done. Maybe it’s too dangerous for us to try cutting across alone. One man might make it, but thirteen people, two babies, and two boys... I’m not sure. Maybe I should learn to shoot?” “We don’t have enough guns. Doc and I are the only ones with rifles. I know Abel and Leather both have pistols.” “Shouldn’t every man have a rifle? What happens if we’re set on?” “Well, hell. I guess we have more talking to do this morning. The only place I can think of to get rifles between here and Santa Fe is the trading post on the Arkansas in Muskogee territory.” “How far out of the way is that?” Lace wiggled up to put her head on his shoulder. “Couple of days, not too much. If there’s anything more we need, it would be a good place to get it. We’ll need to cross the Verdigris, but that has to happen, no matter what. “Jake! Kanuna!” Big Lou’s voice rang out. “Y’all get your behinds over here. I need water and y’all can get it.” They both laughed. “I’ll bet those boys thought they were going on a big adventure, not becoming kitchen help.” Izzy kissed her then threw the blankets aside. “I need to get dressed and talk to Doc and the rest.” Sitting up, she tugged her chemise off the top of the pile of her clothing. Lace pulled it on over her head before standing. “Don’t forget to include Grandpa,

Abel, and Leather. Grandpa’s been grumpy lately.” Lace noted he didn’t bother with the long johns. Pants on, Izzy sat on the bottom of the bedroll and pulled on his boots. “Damn straight he is. I kinda get it, still, it rankles.” The dress went over her head and Lace’s fingers made short work of the buttons. “He’s an old man...” “Yep, and he took care of me. I’m not going to let his irritation and anger push me into doing something I’ll regret forever.” One long arm snagged her and lifted Lace up over the blankets. In his embrace, Izzy kissed her. “Morning, Miz Allen. Anyone ever tell you what a beauty y’all are?” In the morning light, his eyes had changed color again. Now a dark green, they were full of wonderful things that made her heart ache. Lace shook her head. “It’s true. And just so y’all know, I’m crazy over y’all.” His lips touched hers. Lace strained up, both hands on his shoulders. Never in a million years could she have imagined what loving Izzy felt like. Grand was the only word she could think of. In the background, Big Lou issued orders to the two Cherokee boys who had asked to accompany them to California. Orphans, they’d been working for the man her brothers got the horses and mules from. She didn’t know more, but intended to find out. She released Izzy and he let her go. “Guess we should get moving?” “Yep. Not that I want to.” His hand cupped her cheek. “But we need to talk about our change of plan. Don’t want anyone to get the idea they’re being forced into anything.” He meant Grandpa Joe. She understood. It was a difficult situation for both Izzy, as the descendant of the man who bought Joe, and for Joe. With a sigh, she watched her husband walk toward the main camp. Lace hugged herself before gathering up the bedding. She didn’t want to lose the only man she’d ever called

family. On top of her ma’s death, it would be a hard blow.

Chapter Twenty-Five

As expected, Joe wasn’t happy about a side trip to the trading post. Nor did he like the prospect of guns of any kind being in the hands of the others. His main objection being it could be misconstrued. He didn’t want anyone shot or killed while being mistaken for a rabble-ro. Izzy and Doc thought a rifle to hunt with would be less likely to get looked at askance than a pistol. Both Abel and Leather carried pistols they’d looted from dead soldiers. Joe agreed and stated he’d been trying to get both men to give the firearms to Doc. Nor did he want them to have the newer rifles. Someone might think they’d stolen the guns. A hard sell, Izzy persevered. They needed the firepower. Doc volunteered to say the guns belonged to him and were on loan to the men. They were in his employ as guards. In the end, with all the men in agreement but Joe, the party chose to make the journey to Perryman’s for guns and any other items needed. Izzy and Doc would go into town, buy the rifles and ammunition along with any other necessities. They would camp outside the town. Doc suggested since they must cross both the Verdigris and Arkansas rivers, it might be best to do so before anyone went into town to buy anything. His suggestion mollified Joe a little. He still mumbled about what a bad idea it was to arm any Negro men. Abel and Leather gave up trying to convince him. Jem tried a few more times and got told to leave an old man be. Doc took Jake’s horse and let the boy drive the wagon behind the riders. He rode up to the head of the line with Izzy and reined the paint in. “You know he’s got cause to be worried?” “Joe? Yep. I know. Times when we had nothing to do but wait, we talked during the war. I heard all about the plantation owners being scared the Negros would revolt.”

“A valid fear since there were several. Still, I don’t see how they could make slaves of people and not expect them to rise up and try for freedom. History is full of instances of slave rebellions.” “Same thing goes for the tribes.” A deer fly flew right at Izzy’s face. He slapped at it. “Damn nuisance. Anyhow, I understand why the tribes are fighting. It won’t do them any good. The settlers are like a bunch of deer flies; you can’t get rid of the damned things.” “My father, your grandfather, wasn’t a fan of the revolution. He believed it was best to transport the petty criminals and others of the lower classes to the new world and other places where they were stranded. Removing the discontents would lessen the chances of a rebellion as happened in .” Several more flies ed the first. Both men swatted at the biting insects. “I don’t believe I would have liked him,” Izzy said. “I certainly didn’t. Pompous, hidebound, and inflexible, he made my life hell until I packed up and left. The only things he did right were practice medicine and marry Mother.” “Sounds like we both lucked out when it comes to mothers.” “We did. You would have liked her. Noya reminded me a great deal of my mother. But back to the topic we started on. I think your analogy is perfect when speaking of the flies. Europe is old and the cities are full to bursting. The rich rulers are getting richer, and the poor can barely keep body and soul together. There will be more settlers. Count on it.” The doctor sighed. “So we can expect more of what happened with my people. Being moved out because European settlers wanted the land.” “Yes. And just as happened to the Cherokee, the plains tribes will find themselves boxed in, unable to hunt or live off the land as they did before. Some of the Cherokee tried to live as Europeans.” “The way my grandfather did?” Izzy asked. “Yes, but it’s a private club. If you aren’t White, you’re a cut below them.”

“Is it even worth traveling all the way to California?” Izzy heard the bitterness in his tone and winced. “In this case, it is. And you’ll buy your land when you get there. Yours and theirs.” He nodded to the men and women behind them. “What if the people there don’t want to do business with me?” “Do you believe they’ll refuse to sell land to a respected doctor? Hardly. Since you’re my son and heir, it will all go to you eventually. We’ll transfer everything as soon as the transaction is done. That would be best. I could get another case of wanderlust.” Izzy eyed the man he knew to be his father. “Don’t you dare. I—we—need to spend time together. I... I don’t know what I should about you. We need time.” Hazel eyes smiling, as did the lips beneath the trimmed mustache, his father grinned at him. “And we shall have it. Fear not. Now that I know Jake is reliable and can drive the wagon, I will allow him to do so. I enjoyed this exchange of ideas.” The doctor tipped his bowler hat back and used a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. He tapped his hat back down and glanced over at Izzy. “Tell me, son. What do you know of the Napoleonic Wars?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

He’d let it slip. He wanted to find his slaves. There were debts to be paid and not to them. It all started when she asked him about the fire, and he had to it he knew nothing. When she asked about his “brothers”, Buster had said too much. “Ya got a farm to tend. Ya said there was a cabin you could live in. This is a fool’s errand,” Adsila said. “Y’all weren’t invited to come along.” He waved a hand at the pasture where they had turned loose the horses he and the woman had agreed to split, fifty-fifty. She said there was enough graze and a small stream to keep their newly acquired herd happy for quite a while. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. Someone needs to care for our horses.” “If I let ya go report this to the commander at the fort alone, who’s to say ya won’t tell them I’m responsible for the deaths?” “If I did, it’s the truth.” The look on her face told him he’d said the wrong thing. She wouldn’t believe he’d do as agreed if he swore on a stack of Bibles. Mam told him to stop and think, his impulsiveness would get him into trouble. Mam. He hadn’t been as kind to his mother as he could or should have been. She’d given birth to him. Buster recalled being hugged by her. A lot of the other men in the war had spoken of loving mothers, families they hoped to return to. He’d held his peace. A few times, he’d wondered how much of his pa’s rants were true. “Buster, I’m going along.” He sighed. “Listen. I’ll tell them what we agreed to. I promise.” “How trustworthy are ya, Mister MacCullough? Ya take after yur pa in more than image? Word gets around. I heard he hadn’t spent a day sober since before the war. The way he treated yur Ma,”—she snorted, and her eyes flashed—“I’d have gutted him like a fish and turned his ass out. That was yur ma’s land, never

his.” As he stomped away toward the horse he planned to ride to the fort, Buster turned. “In civilized countries, women don’t control property. They know their place.” The rock hit him in the middle of the back. Buster hunched his shoulders. “Civilized? By whose standard? Turlough MacCullough became a drunkard. Who would have taken care of the land if not for yur ma? Everyone knew he was useless as tits on a boar hog.” Anger caused his body to tremble. He turned and strode back to the woman standing beside the fence. “Shut that smart mouth before I shut it.” Before he could move, she surged forward. The knife pricked his shirt at belly level. “Ya better reconsider. Hit me and never sleep again. Understand?” Buster took a step back; then another. The woman was crazy... dangerous as well. And beautiful. Spitting mad, she stirred something in him. An urge to pull her close, to kiss those lips now thinned in anger... had to be the dumbest notion ever. Irritated at himself for wanting anything to do with an insane traditional, he turned away. “If y’all plan to ride along, y’all better mount up. I’m leaving.” “Just try and stop me. Of all the arrogant, bad tempered louts, yur the worst I’ve ever seen.” A grin he couldn’t quell had to be kept from view. God knew what Adsila would do if she thought he was making fun of her. He mounted and shook his head. Being around her made him as crazed as the woman. No matter. When he went home to Elysian Fields, he’d no longer be forced to put up with her strange ways. Elysian Fields. How in heaven’s name would he get the fields planted on his own? Things needed to be rebuilt; the smoking shed, the house itself with the outdoor kitchen. Maybe Adsila had more sense after all. Running after slaves who were now free and a brother who might or might not be his full blood could be a fool’s errand, as she said. Perhaps he should get the business at the fort

taken care of and turn his backside toward home. The window for getting a crop in got smaller every day he delayed. He didn’t bother to look behind him. She’d follow or not; he couldn’t make her do a damn thing. Adsila obeyed no one. The trail widened and she clicked her tongue to bring her horse alongside his. “Ya fixing to plant cotton?” “Damn difficult crop to manage when you don’t have a crew to work it.” “If ya find them, offering wages might help.” Body rigid, he tightened the reins too much and the animal shied. “Not likely, if my brother’s with them.” “He’s family. Why would that matter?” “That fishing pole y’all’s dangling in my business could get you sucked in.” “Ya picked up on that.” She nodded. “I’m wondering if the rumors flying around about the MacCullough family are true. Since I’m riding with one, it would be good to know if a woman’s safe around ya. They say yur pa set the fire, killed himself and two women on purpose.” “Couldn’t say, wasn’t there.” He sighed. “But it makes sense. “Mam being an invalid and all. Weren’t no one there to ask when I came through. Who’d y’all hear all this from?” “Rider came through making for Gibson and the doc. His horse picked up a sprain. We loaned him another. While changing mounts, he blurted it all out.” “A male? Short and stocky?” “Yep. Sounds right.” “Had to be Jem. Old Joe is kinda busted up to ride. You know what happened to the horses? There were two good ones left and the two harness mules last time I got home.”

“Not sure. They came through on the way to Gibson the next day. The women were on the mules and horses, bareback. An old man and the younger one walked. Doc Allen headed up the group.” Ahead, he spotted a flag lifting and falling in the slight breeze which usually followed the course of the river in the late afternoon. “Guess after we tell the tale to the post commander, I’m gonna be looking up Doc Allen.” Having Adsila along made navigating the dangers of the fort easier. She had a pleasant way about her when she tried. As planned, she told the story they’d concocted. The commander took the pouch of jewelry and asked the questions they had anticipated. Buster hadn’t expected her to paint a glowing picture of his arriving in time to save her from the raiders. Her version didn’t do him any harm. If anything, it eased his way back into the community. His battered Confederate uniform didn’t go unnoticed, but it did go unremarked. Still, he breathed easier when they left the fort and rode around to the town to find the doctor. On riding up to the small home and office, what he saw elicited a string of curses. “He’s gone.” Her saddle creaked as she leaned forward. “Sure appears that way. Ya don’t normally board up a place if yur staying.” Buster turned and glanced toward the hovels strung out near the riverbank. “I’m gonna go see what I can find out.” “Wait!” She reined her horse into his. “Ya won’t get much out of them. Yur family doesn’t have a good reputation here.” Adsila lifted her chin toward the conglomeration of huts and other shelters occupied by those driven from their homes by raiders from both sides. “The traditionals hate those trying to be white and the Negroes fear yur kind. I’ll go see what I can find. Why don’t ya go to the dry goods and get some decent clothes? What’s left of that uniform ain’t helping. I’ll meet ya there.” He glanced at the makeshift shelters clinging to the river. The woman made sense... again. For all she had the heart of a bloodthirsty savage, she could reason. “Do it. But y’all find out about Izzy, Israel. I want to know where my brother is.”

“I’ll ask. Maybe someone’s seen him. Go along. I’ll find ya at the store. I’m in need of a few things too.” Buster turned his horse around. Wherever Izzy went, Lace would be there. So would the gold. He was only fooling himself earlier, thinking he could forget about tracking them down and returning to Elysian Fields. Settling for less than his due wasn’t in his nature.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

They discussed things that stirred more questions in him. Izzy couldn’t begin to tell Doc Allen what it meant to have someone treat him like a grown man. The part the war between Britain and played in their revolution got picked apart. Izzy wasn’t sure if the doctor was right. He wanted more information. Were there books on the subject? He needed to find out. He wanted one of the boys to drive the wagon every day so he could have more talks with his pa. The man had a mind full of information Izzy wanted. The hard part came when it was his turn to scout ahead. Leaving the doctor proved difficult. Out ahead of the column of riders with the wagon bringing up the rear, he had to concentrate on the terrain. Twice he had to dismount and ease up over a knoll to check the land ahead. Even with having to keep a good eye out, he had time to think. He didn’t believe Turlough bothered with education. Buster surely would have tried to lord it over him if the old man gave Buster anything he didn’t get. Mam taught them to read and write, do sums, but not much else. Her education might not have encomed much more than that. She did know and teach some of the old ways. He knew the story about the crawdads and why they weren’t to eat them. She told him about their real home, the one they’d been driven out of. She made sure he knew those things. Still, there was a wide world beyond the Cherokee Nation. Leaving it might be the best thing that ever happened to him. Head down, he used both elbows to crawl to the top of the small rise. Nothing but grass and the river beyond. Soon, they must find a place to ford the Verdigris. The sooner the better because then they would need to find a ford across the Arkansas. He suspected getting the wagon to the other side of that river would require a

rough raft. Far too wide to use the ropes to help pull the mules across, it would be better to unharness them and ferry the wagon over, allowing the mules to swim unhindered. Izzy couldn’t imagine what it must be like to take a whole train across a river. Those wagons usually outweighed the smaller one Doc had chosen. It helped to have one person who understood the dangers and difficulties. Doc’s knowledge of the journey gave them something to go by, a measure to look to. Several more times, he dismounted and scouted on foot. It cost him time, but he figured his efforts kept them safe. A good trade. Having crept up the last ridge, Izzy looked at the river. “What the hell?” A second narrow band of water curved away from the Verdigris. The sun off the point of his left shoulder was close to the horizon. He needed to find out what was going on from Doc. They might as well stop for the night. After stooping low to the ground, Izzy went down the hill. He got his toe into the stirrup and mounted Thor. What he saw didn’t look right. Where were they? He didn’t think they could have taken a wrong turn, not following the river. Izzy rode Thor around the rise by sticking close to the bank. After going to all the trouble to keep from being seen, it wouldn’t do any good to give them away by being lax. It took him slightly out of the way, but nothing Thor couldn’t handle. Some distance back, he came on the group trudging single file with Leather in the lead. “Hey, Izzy. How’s it looking?” “Ahead there’s a broader meadow. I don’t think we can get across before sundown. Let’s camp here. I saw something I need to ask Doc about. It looks like another river ing with the Verdigris. I don’t think that’s right. We need to find out before going farther. And we need to think about finding a place to cross.” “Another river? We’re above the Arkansas. I don’t understand.” “Yep. Let’s call a halt and find out what’s going on before we make a mistake.” “Makes sense. I’m damn glad Doc decided to come along.” Leather reined his horse around and they rode back to the next in line, Jem and Pansy.

“Make for that stand of trees at the base of the ridge. We’ll camp there for the night.” Leather leaned toward the couple. “Before setting up y’all’s tent, get Big Lou’s fire pit going. I want it out as soon as food is done.” “Will do.” Jem kicked his mule and he and Pansy rode toward the small stand of trees. Less than four grew in a small hollow at the base of the ridge Izzy had ridden around. There might be some fuel there, but not a lot. Come morning, another scouting trip must happen. With the wagon to worry about, they would need to go over instead of around. Izzy figured he and Abel would check the country on the opposite side before anyone moved in the morning. They would work the details out when Abel rode in after checking their back trail. The three of them were handling the trek like a strategic retreat, checking where they hoped to ride and the ground they had covered. First came a quick hot meal. Once everyone ate, he could ask Doc about what he’d seen. If the man didn’t know any more than he did, a full-fledged scouting operation would come next.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

As agreed, Adsila met him at the store. He shook his head at the picture she made with the stains on her buckskin dress and messy braids. Buster wished he weren’t standing at the counter paying for his selections. Meeting her at the door, he could have walked past and pretended to have no more than a ing acquaintance. When he didn’t speak and turned back to the clerk, a small chuckle came from behind him. His face got hot. She didn’t say a word, nothing. He heard the rustle of material in the background. Was she going to buy something decent to wear? A pair of tros landed on the polished wood beside him. A few minutes later a work shirt hit the pants. Head down, from the corner of his eye Buster watched the fringe of her dress swish away. Parcel in hand, with a nod for the clerk, he walked to the door and took a chair near the unlit stove. When she paid for the goods, he’d leave and meet her outside. Impatient to hear what she’d found out, he hoped she wouldn’t dally in the store half the day. A hat ed the growing pile. Straightening in the chair, he watched as a comb and two neckerchiefs got tossed on. How much longer is this going to take? He drummed his fingers on the arm of the captain’s chair. Her head turned and she lifted her eyebrows. Buster pulled his hand from the wide arm and took the twine holding the parcel together in his fingers. He got the feeling she might address him if he didn’t stop fidgeting. A box of cartridges for the pistol and rifle she took from one of the men she killed completed her purchases. From the pouch she carried, Adsila pulled out the money to pay. Buster took it as his signal to go out to the horses. While he put his things away in the saddlebags, he wondered what she’d found out. Shoulders back, head high, she left the store. Adsila didn’t say a word as she unbuckled the saddle bags and put everything inside. “What did you find out?”

Adsila untied the horse. Toe of her moccasin in the stirrup, she pushed up into the saddle and reined the animal around. “Do I know ya?” she asked looking over her shoulder. Stunned, Buster couldn’t move for an instant. Reins free, he mounted up and followed her from the store. He pushed the horse to a trot, and she sped up. Damn flighty female anyhow. She pointed the horse north toward the fort. Every time he got close, she sped up until they were galloping along the river trail, but neither of them could keep that up for any length of time. Buster figured he had to be reasonable. Slowing the horse down, he noted she did the same. He could keep Adsila in sight, but she wouldn’t allow him to catch up. Buster pulled his new hat down a little tighter. Would she give in and camp in the same place? He supposed he’d need to wait and see. Damn woman. She didn’t like the way he ignored her in the store. He had his reasons and she had no right to question him. It went that way all morning. He finally gave in and stopped to take a rest when the sun overhead made it necessary. North of him, the woman dismounted, and pulled out a canteen. Barely seen through the screen of trees, she watered the horse. The leather nosebag the raiders had carried to enable them to make a dry camp came in handy. “How long y’all gonna keep this up?” Buster yelled. “I thought ya didn’t want to be seen with me. I’m honoring yur wish.” “I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” “They might think we were together. Is that what ya meant?” “It’s y’all’s reputation...” A burst of laughter filtered through the brush and trees. “Buster MacCullough, yur the biggest liar ever breathed.” “I’m not lying.”

“MacCullough, do ya think I’m stupid? Maybe yur the dunce. Why are ya following me? What makes ya think they went this direction?” His horse nudged his arm hoping for more water. When the animal pushed harder, he refilled the bag. “I just thought...” “We’re coming on Ranger Creek in a little while. I can go up the creek and drop down to my place. There’s more cover that way.” She could do exactly that. “Guess y’all can. I’ll ride back to Gibson. Sorry I made a wrong assumption.” “For heaven’s sake! Stop being an ass. Apologize for what ya did, and I’ll tell ya what I found out. I know ya didn’t want anyone to see ya with a dirty injun.” Adsila had him pegged. It hurt to own up to what she accused him of. He didn’t want to tell the woman she’d guessed right. “Ya really gonna lose half a day over that stiff neck of yurn? Ya put those pants on like the rest of the world, a leg at a time. Ain’t no skin off my hide if ya do. I’ll go home like I said.” “Fuck!” he mumbled under his breath. His horse finished drinking. He took the bag and turned it inside out before hanging it on the saddlebags. “I’m sorry.” “What was that?” He knew she heard him. Damn woman wanted him to shout. “I’m sorry! That do it for y’all?” “For now. Let’s move out. Come ahead and I’ll tell ya what I learned.” Buster mumbled curses until he got close to her. Then he shut his mouth. Any man dealing with Adsila needed the patience of a saint.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“I think I saw another river ing up with the Verdigris ahead of us. That doesn’t sound right.” Izzy sat on the ground next to the stool his father used and kept in the wagon. “How close to the Verdigris?” Doc asked. “I can’t be sure ‘cause I didn’t ride down to the river to have a look. There’s a gentle slope up to the next hill from the place where I scouted. It’s a long ride to the top. I didn’t want to go that far just yet.” “That’s fine. I’m of the opinion what you saw is another loop of the river doubling back to the stream on this side. It’s a bit of a strange river. There’s a spot where it almost forms a full circle. I’ll bet that’s what you’re seeing.” “If that’s the way it is, maybe we should look for a place to cross before we get too far north.” “A good idea.” “Tomorrow morning, Abel and me will see if there’s a likely looking place to ford. I’m guessing we’ll need a few logs for under the wagon. Maybe four. We’ll let the current carry us across. Someone needs to go first and see how fast it’s running. A good reconnoiter of the far side must happen. We need to be able to haul out wherever we fetch up.” “All true. Sounds to me as if you learned a bit about crossing rivers while you were gone.” “I did,” Izzy said with a grin. “Old man who ran a ferry on the sly for folks not wanting to take the regular one took me and Thor across the Mississippi. Learning new stuff never hurt a body, ever.” The doctor grinned back at him. “As with a lot of things, it’s all about what you do with your knowledge. That makes all the difference.”

Deep and with a strong current, the Verdigris didn’t appear to have a decent approach for a ford anywhere close to their position. They would need to fell at least four trees. It would take most of the morning to get it done. Removing the limbs would come next. All of which should be accomplished close to where they planned to get the wagon into the water. After throwing a branch in the river, he watched how it bobbed in the current. A quick estimate of the channel in several places, above and below where they had camped for the night, ended here. They had a stand of trees which would probably work for floats. The bank wasn’t too high. If everyone worked together, they could knock down enough dirt to give ready access to the river. Close to half a mile down, the channel took a turn. On the opposite bank, the water became shallow. It looked as if they could get the wagon up onto high ground with the least amount of shovel work. All of it meant getting the way cleared to get the wagon to the river then taking the workers to the other side to dig out a path on the opposite shore. If they got everyone to the other side of the Verdigris before the sun set, Izzy would consider it a good day’s work. For an instant, he regretted the necessity for the wagon. And he sure as God made little acorns didn’t look forward to crossing the Arkansas. He already knew what it looked like where the Neosho ed it—broad, deep, and dangerous. Still, he couldn’t cross but one river at a time. Right now, he needed to get the wagon and everyone else safely to the other side of the Verdigris. Abel had been waiting patiently beside him. Reins in one hand, both hands over the saddle pommel, he stared at the river. “Done scouting it out? Dunno what y’all’s thinking, but to my mind we should try crossing here.” “Yep. Why?” Izzy asked. Abel turned in the saddle to look behind them. “Can’t see any real problems to knocking down the bank enough to get the wagon to the river here. Looks like the spring flood ripped out a big tree. It’ll be easy digging.” He lifted his chin at the trees following the riverbank. “We got trees big enough to carry the wagon.

I’m damn glad Doc Allen didn’t pack the wagon to the sideboards with stuff. Over there it looks shallow enough to get the wagon out if we can get close enough to the bank.” “That right there is the sticking point. On top of cutting the trees and limbing the things, I suspect we need a sweep of some kind to try and direct the raft to the shallows. This is gonna take two men in the wagon.” “Yep. One to man the sweep...” “And the other to toss a rope tied to the wagon tongue over to whoever is on the bank with the mules. They’re the only critters strong enough to haul the wagon out of the water and up the bank.” Abel sighed. “It’s gonna take the entire day. After we get the sweep done, we’d best hang on to it. We’re gonna need it to get across the Arkansas.” “Uh-huh. And we can’t let that wagon tongue drag the ground.” “Nope. It digs into the dirt before we get it up on the bank and the thing is liable to turn turtle.” The two men glanced at each other. “Time to get to digging,” Izzy said. “I’ll be happy as hell to get to the other side before the sun sets. “Yep. Leather needs to be with the mules. He handles them better than either of us or Doc.” They reined their horses away from the river and back toward the camp. “Leastwise, we’re not backtracking.” Abel chuckled. “If we make a mile today, we can count ourselves lucky.” Izzy and Abel, Doc and Leather worked to fell the trees. Dogger used an ax to chop the limbs from the downed logs. Grandpa Joe worked with Jem, the two boys, and the women to make a gradual approach to the water for the wagon. Joe told them it didn’t need to be grand, only free of deep holes and rocks sticking up. The approach finished, the men ferried the work crew across to the other side of the Verdigris and found a narrow opening between two trees that would allow

the wagon through. After a short break, the work crew got busy creating a way to get the wagon out of the channel. They finished about the same time as the men did with the logs for the wagon. By late afternoon, all was ready.

Chapter Thirty

“Yur brother, the Doc, and all the people from Elysian Fields took off early yesterday morning. They was headed north. No one said where they was going. But each one had a pack horse trailing.” As they lounged before the fire, he thought her information over. She leaned back on her elbows and scrutinized the rabbit as it cooked. Buster had watched her pick the critter off just before they settled in for the night. It galled the hell out of him. The woman was a better shot than he ever was, and he wasn’t damn bad. She didn’t rub it in. Something he thanked heaven for. He didn’t need to make her angry. Adsila didn’t have much patience with being taken to task. Since he didn’t have a lot of patience and hadn’t believed a man needed to hold his tongue with a woman, they didn’t mix well. He couldn’t deny she knew how to live out in the woods, far better than he did. If it wasn’t for her quick aim and sharp eyes, there wouldn’t be a rabbit over the fire. Adsila leaned forward and turned the stick she’d skewered the animal on. Another thing he liked about her; she didn’t chatter. They’d been sitting beside the fire for quite a while, and she hadn’t said a thing. He opened a canteen and handed it to her without speaking. She took it. Buster watched her tilt her head back and take a swallow. The long, slim line of her throat drew his gaze. Is her skin as smooth as it looks? Where the hell did that come from? When she turned her head and held out the canteen, she didn’t turn loose of it right away. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Did she want something? Maybe the same thing he suddenly wanted. Dark eyes lit by flickering flames, she appeared mysterious. Alluring. Buster capped the canteen and leaned toward her.

Adsila turned her head away and reached for the stick. “It’s done. I’ll split it. He watched the woman move the stick over to the flat rock she’d cleaned off with a little of the water earlier. She slipped the meat from the skewer with the flat of her knife, the knife he hadn’t seen in her hand before. “When did you pull that knife?” She didn’t look up as she cut the rabbit in two. “About the time ya began wondering how easy it would be to bed me.” “I...” His half of the animal on the point of the knife, she held it out to him. “Ya did.” Her face held no expression. He reached for the meat. “Ouch!” Buster dropped his share back on the rock. “What did ya expect? Fire burns.” “Why are y’all out here with me? What do y’all want? I don’t understand.” Her teeth sank into the flesh. Adsila’s free hand wiped the blade in the grass beside her. A beauty, hers was a strong face. A firm jaw, high cheekbones, her eyes were exotic looking. As different from Lace as a woman could be. Somehow, Lace’s softness didn’t hold a candle to the woman chewing the meat next to him. Figuring the rabbit might be cool enough to eat, he picked up his half. While waiting for an answer, he bit into his share. She swallowed and stared at him for a moment. A drop of moisture lingered on her bottom lip. He wanted to lick it off. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge of that knife. “I’m not sure.” He hurried to finish the bite. “Y’all aren’t sure of what?” “Why I’m out here with ya. Guess I’m following my instincts. Something has me out here. I’m gonna let it all play out. The spirits move us and either we go

along with it or turn away.” Strong teeth bit into the meat. Buster felt something he never had before—the pull of his Cherokee heritage. The fire, the trees surrounding him, the darkness, and most of all, the woman. Strong and confident. Capable of almost anything. He ed how she had crept from raider to raider, killing each one of them silently. She hadn’t needed him. He wondered if he could have done it as efficiently as Adsila. She took care of them as she had the rabbit. It hadn’t moved an inch from the place where she’d taken the shot that dropped it. Should he be afraid of her? The woman could slit his throat in the middle of the night and leave him for the scavengers. Something about that thought didn’t engender fear. Another emotion entirely reacted to Adsila. Buster asked himself if he was crazy. “Y’all figure it out, let me know.” “Maybe.” She licked her fingers. Her tongue cleaned her lips. He so wanted to see what she tasted of. The juice from the rabbit dripping on his fingers, Buster sat there unable to look away from Adsila.

Chapter Thirty-One

By the end of the day, everyone sat before the fire on the far bank of the Verdigris River. Lace and Big Lou had hot coffee and stew ready for everyone when the wagon finally rolled up the dirt ramp. There had been a few tense moments, times that she held her breath and prayed, but they all made it. The men, including Doc, settled in the grass around the fire, exhausted. Silent, they ate and drank what the women served them. The two boys brought in a squirrel each so the stew had more than beans in it. A happy circumstance for all. Big Lou had taken to filling a pot with beans and water in the morning. The pot rode in the wagon and the beans were ready to cook as soon as they stopped for the evening. Lace volunteered as her helper. She figured she should learn to cook. Big Lou wouldn’t always be around to cook for Izzy. Times were changing and she must go along, just as the river flowed toward its meeting with the Arkansas. The future held as much fear as it did excitement. Going to a new place where no one knew them had an allure. Still, what if they were met with the same attitude as that of the people they left behind? That could well be. After all, the only people who weren’t newcomers to the land were the Indians. They were maybe a cut above the slaves, one cut only. White folk had the idea their way was the only one that had any worth. Her pa had been every bit as arrogant. But listening to Izzy and Doc talk in the evening opened her mind to new ideas. An educated man, her father by marriage knew about so many things. She finished her chores and went to sit by Izzy. Lace learned that to the English, her Scots pa was no more than a savage. On the scale of who rated equal treatment, the Scots were in the gutter right along with everyone else who couldn’t trace their ancestors back to William the Conqueror. Interested to learn more, she asked about the man he mentioned. Doc Allen told her he was nothing more than a Norman bastard who happened to know how to

raise an army and fight. When she laughed, Doc told her to never forget one thing—the winner wrote the history that got ed. All day as she worked, she pondered that statement. She wanted to ask questions, but given the physical state of the men, didn’t dare. They’d worked hard and needed to be left alone. A silly woman asking questions might get that woman a verbal dressing down. Not one of the men stayed up beyond the cleaning of their plates. Bellies full, they stumbled into the hastily thrown up tents. Big Lou put together a cornmeal and flour batter with a potato for leavening. Come morning, she intended to feed them griddle cakes with a thin sugar syrup for topping. Lace paid close attention to what Big Lou did. By the time she made it to bed, Izzy was fast asleep. She climbed into the covers and cuddled against his back. During the night he rolled over and pulled her close. She woke for a moment. All seemed quiet, a peaceful night. The journey they were on had opened her eyes to things she hadn’t been aware of. When the other women worked on the approach to the river for the wagon, they laughed together. Teasing comments about men and the things that took place in the marriage bed flew between them. Lace got left out. No one said anything mean; she just wasn’t included. The only woman she could joke with was Big Lou. It bothered her. Their exclusion hurt. A night bird called in the distance. Should she ask Big Lou about it? If she said anything to Izzy, he might speak to Leather and Abel. Having the men butt in could cause things to get worse instead of better. Talk to Doc. The words floated into her head. She would do that. A smart man, he could have insight into her problem. They should stick together, help each other. Lace didn’t understand why she wasn’t included, but between here and California, she had to find a way to become part of that circle. She got a chance to discuss the problem with her father by marriage shortly after they got moving down the trail. Doc Allen let the boys, Jake and Kanuna, ride out with the younger men. He said he needed a lazy day in the wagon.

Lace reined Redbone around and asked Doc to stop for a moment so she could tie the horse to the wagon and ride with him for a bit. He brought the buckboard to a stop. Lace hurriedly tied the roan to the wagon and climbed up to the seat next to Doc. Tongue-tied, she pleated the fabric of her dress with nervous fingers. What could she say? How to put it? “Hi-ya, mules.” Doc flicked the reins and the wagon rolled forward. “Something on your mind?” he asked. Her cheeks grew hot. Lace nodded. “Take your time. We’ve got all day.” She laughed. They had until the noon break when she would be helping Big Lou. “I noticed something yesterday. Or think I did. Maybe I’m imagining things. I’m not sure.” “Like what? I didn’t think you and Izzy were having problems.” Her hand went to her mouth. “It’s nothing with Izzy.” Lace glanced at the doctor from the corner of her eye. “It’s the other women. They tease each other, make jokes about things that go on at night and... I... I’m not included. Does that make sense?” “Ah. You’re the odd one out.” The wagon wheels on her side went into a dip, jostling her. Lace grabbed for hand holds until they eased out again. “It feels that way. I’m not sure what to do about it.” “Tell me, you ran with the boys a lot, didn’t you?” “Yep. I wasn’t around the house much when I was little. Mam, Noya, believed we should be allowed to learn about the forest and the animals. Be like the traditionals.” “And later she didn’t want you too close to the house because of Turlough and Buster both. Those two thought they had certain rights.”

Face on fire, she ducked her head. “Yeah, something like that. Those two did what they pleased.” “And the other women are a little older than you. They’ve been involved with men for a lot longer, I suspect. They’re not used to thinking of you as anything other than a wild little girl. You may be married, but they don’t see you as a grown woman, not yet.” This time she turned to face him. “Y’all figure that’s all it is?” “Let’s make a list of things. We don’t need to label them right now. You’re younger than they are. You weren’t around them much, so they didn’t get to know you well. You’re not the kind of person to be mean to others for no good reason, so I don’t think they dislike you for being rude and ornery. Take this to Big Lou. She can help you get to know everyone better. But I figure it’s a case of lack of knowledge. They don’t know you and you don’t know them well, either.” They fell silent. Lace went over her childhood in her head to see if she’d ever done anything mean or nasty to any of the older women. Doc let her consider his words. “Y’all may be right. I’ve been running with the boys most of my life. I don’t think I ever did anything bad to any of them. I’ll ask Big Lou about it. Thank y’all for helping me get it all clear in my head.” “Should I stop so you can get back on your horse?” Doc asked. “If y’all don’t mind? I’d appreciate it.” “Whoa!” He pulled the mules to a halt. Lace jumped down and ran back to untie the roan. Now that she understood the problem, she could make a plan to change things. There were enough miles ahead of them to give her time to turn things around.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“How can y’all tell we’re following them? It could be raiders. We come up on a bunch of them and they’re likely to kill us and take everything.” The woman didn’t answer. Bent over the horse, she peered at the ground. Buster wanted to shake her. “Why can’t y’all give me the consideration of an answer?” She straightened and reined in the horse. Adsila wore a frown. “Dismount.” He felt his gore rise at the order, but did it anyway. “Woman, y’all make me so damn mad I could spit nails.” After reining her horse to the side, Adsila dropped lightly to the ground. “That’s yur problem, not mine. Ya think too much of yurself. Stop bellyaching and get over here. There’s something I’ll show ya. Never learned to track, did ya?” “No. Leather, Abel, and Izzy went in for that kind of thing. Pa had me learning about the land and how to make it produce.” It pained him to it it. “Yur Pa was a damned idiot. The land already produces. A garden ain’t a bad thing to have. The rest can go hang.” She squatted on the balls of her feet. He walked up and she threw out an arm to halt him. “Stop right there. Look down. See, there’s a single wagon, two animals are hitched to it. It’s the last one in line. Want to tell me what raiders are doing with a buckboard? I figure it belongs to Doc Allen.” “Maybe.” Buster begrudged agreement. The uppity woman didn’t need her head to get any bigger. A grin stretched her mouth. He wanted to drag her off somewhere and teach her a lesson. Her dark eyes danced in the afternoon light. Hair as black as any crow’s wing had a sheen to it. Even her braids seemed to glow. Buster straightened his spine. Those thoughts might lead to a knifing—his.

Her dark eyebrows rose and the knowing look she gave him, came close to triggering what he wanted to avoid. Adsila was a challenge he wanted to meet head on, insane as it sounded. The dark head turned back to gaze at the grass and dirt churned up by the ing of a group of people. She thought they were his slaves. No, slaves no longer. He had to remind himself again. She wouldn’t help him get them back. A given. Nor could he make them return by himself. That would take more than he had, but he might snatch Lace and his money back. Although, the usual burst of pleasure he’d get at the thought of taking Lace away from Izzy didn’t materialize. Taking his inheritance back from Izzy, now, that did warm his heart. Killing the little traitor would be just comeuppance. Adsila looked up. “Step around to the other side of these tracks. I’ll show ya something.” Curious, he did as she said. Buster squatted on the far side of Adsila. With a quick glance at him, she pointed to a dusty print in a small patch of dirt. “Take a gander at this. See that nick in the toe of the shoe? This animal’s shoe has a piece out of it. Makes it easier to track the wagon. We keep the wagon in sight, we have the rest of them.” “Makes sense.” He’d give her that. She stood and brushed off her pants. “We’ve got daylight left. Let’s see how far we can get before dark. Maybe we’ll find their camp. They’re doing a good job of keeping out of sight. Sticking to the edge of the trees so they don’t stand out, and I’ll wager ya they send scouts out to make sure when they top a ridge nothing’s on the far side.” Her toe in the stirrup, Adsila lifted herself up and settled in the saddle. Buster grinned. She had a fine muscular backside, one he wouldn’t mind getting a hand on. She crossed over the trail and began to follow it, looking down from the right. She tracked better than he did and could outshoot him. Taller than Lace, she would fit him better. The more he thought about it, Buster wondered what he

saw in Lace. Small and delicate appearing didn’t really appeal. What had it been? Her attachment to Izzy? He scratched his beard. Maybe. He stifled a chuckle. Probably that. Not to mention she was the only girl close by. That she didn’t want him added a bit of pepper to the pot. Grabbing Lace held a double challenge—taking her from Izzy and taking someone who put up a fight. Not that she made it interesting. Taking what he wanted from her wouldn’t be difficult; no challenge to it. Adsila’s back swayed as she moved with the horse. There was something worth going after. He eased his seat in the saddle with a grin. The thought of what he might get to do to subdue that one made the long ride interesting. Adsila would fight and spit like a catamount. He’d get bloody. It all would be far more entertaining than some screaming little girl crying her eyes out. The trees thinned and a small meadow opened ahead of them. “Hey. How about calling a halt for the night? Sun’s going down soon.” Adsila reined her horse in and glanced around the area. “I suppose. I maybe can find some wild onions.” She dropped the lines around the pommel and stretched. In profile, her arms above her head, the dying sun outlined her breasts. “Meat for the pot would be nice.” Buster stared at the figure in front of him. “Y’all want me to see what I can scare up?” “Yep. Show me what ya can do.” “Sure.” Did she realize what she’d said? Face devoid of emotion, she slipped from the saddle. Adsila turned the animal toward him. “Hand me the reins and I’ll take them to the river. Give them a good drink and they’ll be fine ‘til morning.” When the thought of making a move on her entered his brain, Buster pushed it aside. He should stay focused on finding Izzy and getting his money back. Lace no longer a consideration, she’d been replaced by the woman standing before him.

Buster dismounted, grabbed his rifle, and tugged his horse over to Adsila. When she had both hands full with the animals, he leaned forward and grabbed her chin. Before she could protest, he kissed her. A small noise, he wasn’t sure if it was of protest or something else, came from her throat. She jerked her face from his hold and glared at him. “Like to live on the knife edge?” Buster smiled at the woman only half a head shorter than him. “With a horse in both hands, I took a chance. Been wanting to do that for a while.” “Don’t push yur luck.” She stepped away and turned the horses in a circle. They began walking toward the river. Adsila turned her head and stared at him. “Feed me. Let’s see if ya can manage it.” “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get right on it.” She had a bottom lip he wanted to suck on and bite some. Then he’d... Find something to bag. Rabbit, squirrel, a woodcock, something. A juicy bird would be good. Then he could watch her lick those long fingers and that plump lip. Adsila wanted proof that he could take care of her? He’d deliver. He heard them in the shadows. Buster took off his boots and scrabbled through the underbrush in bare feet to get close enough for a shot. One bird dropped to the forest floor; the others scattered. Boots and bird in one hand, he returned to find the horses hobbled and a cooking fire ready.

She licked her lips and his entire body tensed. Adsila took another bite of the juicy bird and a drop clung to her lush mouth. Buster couldn’t resist the temptation. Leaning forward, he used the pad of his thumb to try capturing it. Almost across her full bottom lip, Adsila opened her mouth. Strong teeth captured his thumb. She gave it a little shake then used one hand to push him away. The feel of her teeth biting into his skin had his blood pounding like a drum. The remainder of his bird went on the rock as Buster reached for her. If what she’d done wasn’t an invitation, he’d eat his hat. “No.” The word had him deflating like a waterskin punctured by a sharp knife. “But...” “I’ve heard things about that family of yurn. Why are we chasing a brother ya don’t have any feeling for? Truth, MacCullough. I’ll not be lied to.” “I want y’all.” The fists he formed automatically clenched tighter. “There’re a lot of things I want. Ya might be one...” When his hands came up, she pushed him away. “No. I’m not gonna be bedded and lied to. I know what yur pa was and I’m not having it. I want a man. One who can stand up to trouble without a liquor crutch. I take a man, it’s ‘til death. That can be from old age or otherwise. I’ll not be canoodled. The truth, now.” How much did he want the woman seated opposite him? Buster let his eyes drift over her from dark head to neatly folded legs. He tried to place a memory of Lace over her, and it didn’t work. Still, he didn’t want to reveal everything. She laughed. “Make up yur mind. I’ll not take a half-truth. It’s all or nothing with me.” The sound washed over him. Adsila might know him better than he knew himself. She wouldn’t put up with a part of the story. Except for Lace. That didn’t matter now, anyway. He didn’t care about her. Compared to Adsila, Lace

meant nothing to him. “Gold. He’s got the gold Pa had hidden away. I don’t know how and don’t care. I want it as the head of the family.” “Ya got gold. Is it more than we took from the raiders?” Silent for a moment, her gaze lifted from the dying coals and speared him. “How the hell do ya know he has it?” Fuck! She had him there. “He left some in a cabin one of the slaves stayed in after he got too old to work. Mam had it built for him. Pa figured it were a waste of time, money, and resources, but gave in. Guess it’s for the best that he did. It’s the only thing left standing on the estate. It’s warm and dry.” “Yur brother shared with ya, but it’s not enough. Ya want the whole thing.” Buster figured getting Adsila in his bedroll wouldn’t happen. “That’s too greedy for words.” She stood. “Yur pa has a lot to answer for. I’m not sure yur what I want or need.” She moved her bedding to the far side of the fire. “Go to bed, MacCullough. Yur a right disappointment.” As he pulled the covers around him, Buster tried to work it all out. He disappointed her by being greedy. But... the heir should take everything. How else to have what he needed to care for the land? Yes, he had the gold they’d taken from the raiders. But was it enough? How could he work the land on his own and rebuild Elysian Fields to its former glory? He didn’t understand.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Another river to cross. Everything the men said made sense. They would noon on the banks of the Arkansas, then get to cutting the trees. The next morning, they would be ready to cross. If any problems arose while they were on Muskogee land, everyone, including the wagon, would be across the river and they could escape easily. She and the other women wouldn’t have as difficult time clearing an approach to the water as at the Verdigris. They already knew what was necessary. The entire operation should be easier to manage. Jem, Dogger, Grandpa Joe, and the boys would cross over with Little Lou, Tansy, Sal, Big Lou, and Pansy to see what needed to be done on the far bank. She would stay on this side until the wagon crossed in the morning. That meant any plans she had to get closer to the other women must begin in the afternoon when they worked on this side of the river. Mindful of what Doc Allen had said, she walked over to the group of women sitting in the grass, waiting on the men. The men had split into two groups and were riding above and below their camp to scout the best place to cross. No longer infants, the toddlers fussed and fretted trying to escape their mothers. She smiled at Abe, Abel’s boy. Both boys had been conceived when her brothers came home for a visit with Buster. Born within days of each other, they were quite different. Abe’s grandfather, Turlough, had left his mark on the child. Not as dark as his Grandma Satin, he was shades lighter than David, Leather’s son. She wondered what that might mean for them later. Abe grinned at her and fussed to get out of the confines of Sal’s lap. The commodious skirt and apron formed a wall around the boy. Sal forced the child down every time he got a leg over hers. “Lordy, how many rivers we got to go? I was hoping to get a day or two between crossings.” Little Lou grunted an “amen”.

“Sal, let Abe come over here and I’ll play with him,” Lace said. The other woman’s face blossomed into a huge smile. “Honey, he’s all yurn.” She released the boy and pointed at Lace. “Go see Auntie Lace.” On hands and knees, Abe crawled in her direction. Unhappy at seeing Abe free, David huffed a few times before breaking into a wail. “Hush!” Tansy commanded and the child broke it off. “Y’all want to play with Auntie Lace, keep shut, y’all hear?” David rubbed his eyes with his fists, but kept silent. Tansy nodded. “Here. Y’all go see Auntie Lace and Abe. No fighting.” Lace understood why it was so important for the child to learn to be silent. Turlough hadn’t liked the sound of babies. Their noise caused his head to ache. No one wanted to try telling him his problems were due to the liquor he consumed. Tansy had been a house slave. With no one to watch David, she had to bring him with her. Fearing Turlough might decide to sell the child, Tansy had found it necessary to teach the boy to be silent early on. With both children in front of her, Lace gathered them close into a big hug. With one ear on the women, she played pattycake with the toddlers. “I hate these river crossings,” Little Lou said as she twisted her fingers together. “Wish I could swim.” “It wouldn’t make much difference to us,” Lace said as she patted first one little palm then the other. “These dresses would fill with dirt and drag us down.” “Hell and damnation,” Little Lou said. “Is that why y’all was always running with the boys in their old pants and shirts?” “Well, partly. They’re a sight more comfortable when you’re working.” “Not entirely,” Sal said. “Skirts are a sight easier to do business in when y’all’s out in a field and there’s no brush to hide behind.”

The group of women broke into laughter. Lace ed in and felt a little of her isolation drop away. Maybe she was the problem. Perhaps she needed to make herself a member of the group by taking part. Pansy tapped her on the right knee. “How’s married life treating y’all, girl? That Izzy, he’s a big strapping man now. He got enough energy left after all this cutting and hauling to take care of business ‘tween the covers?” Lace felt her face get hot. This might be the place where she became part of the group or stayed on the outside. “Yep. He’s a man, no question there.” “Maybe by the time we get to the new place, he’ll have y’all waddling with a big belly,” Little Lou said. With a roll of her eyes, Lace turned to Little Lou. “I’m hoping that holds off for a bit. Bouncing around big as a tent on a horse don’t sound like fun.” Another laugh rolled through the group of women. “Y’all can take some steps toward that. Y’all could ask Doc Allen,” Tansy suggested. “I’d rather hear that from y’all. How do we do that?” Lace asked. David tried to crawl off and Lace grabbed him by the back of his shirt. The boy sat up and frowned at her. Before he could make a noise, Tansy hissed at him. The boy stifled his irritation. Surrounded by a circle of women, he couldn’t get free to get into trouble. “There’s a few ways.” Pansy’s dark face grinned at her. “A tea and a few other things. The best one—it’s not foolproof, mind, but works better than most things —is easy. Problem is getting a man to agree.” “Producing babies to be sold off... hurts the heart. So we got ways. Some men are easier to convince than others,” Little Lou said. “Dogger and me talked it over. We get settled, we’ll give it a try. I’m a little old, but if the Lord sees fit, maybe we’ll have a child.” The other women in the circle nodded. Then Pansy outlined the things they could do as a couple.

Lace lay in Izzy’s embrace. They had discussed it and he agreed. They would try the methods she’d learned about. Izzy told her the thought of her pregnant on this long and arduous trip scared him almost enough to give it up until they got to California. His statement made her giggle. Lace didn’t believe that for a minute and told him so. Izzy agreed he’d been cracking a joke. Things had gone too far for that. He’d developed a taste for her. To keep from putting her through what he agreed would be a terrible trial, they would give the things she’d learned a try. He slept and she lay awake considering something she’d never explored the ramifications of—her and Buster. They were Turlough’s children by different mothers. As much incest as her and Izzy if the doctor wasn’t his pa. The thought of being with Buster gave her a chill and she shivered in the cool night air. Would he have allowed her to keep any child they might’ve conceived? Lace doubted he would have. With no choice, she would have tried to get away on the underground railroad. As she cuddled closer to Izzy, seeking some comfort, he mumbled something and pulled her close. In the morning, they would take the wagon across the river. The other women and Big Lou were already there. She’d stayed behind to cook breakfast for the men before they started the hard job of getting the wagon to the other side of the wide river. She said her prayers and made sure to ask the Lord to see them safe on the other side. Doc and Izzy must make the crossing two more times, once to the trading post and then back again. Lace wondered how many more times they would be forced to cross a river. She knew she could ask Doc Allen, but decided not to bother. It would only stick in her mind like a burr. As the book said, sufficient unto the day was the evil thereof. No use buying trouble before it showed itself.

Chapter Thirty-Four

She barely said a word to him. Buster rode his horse behind Adsila as she tracked the wagon. All day he tried to get her to relent, bend a little. Like a big oak tree, she resisted everything he tried. Forcing her wouldn’t work, nor did he want her spitting and clawing. He wanted her to melt against him, give herself over, to want him as much as he craved her. Why? He had land, something of value to offer. How taken was he with the woman? What did he want from her, from his association with Adsila? Maybe more than he first believed. The thought made his gut clench. From the time he was old enough to service a woman, Turlough stressed finding a woman of consequence to wed, someone who would bring something to the table. Money or position. A traditional, Adsila was a Cherokee before anything else. If he asked her, Buster made a bet with himself that’s what she’d say. She kept telling him he wasn’t White. He thought back to his time in the war. Several others had gained promotions on nothing more substantial than the name they carried. He’d been an exemplary soldier. Done his best to uphold the traditions of his Scots ancestors with honor. One of the reasons he’d taken to drink was the refusal of his commander to recognize his superior performance. Lesser men got promoted because of their skin color. He realized it. His turn finally came when there was no one else left to do the job. Adsila pointed it out to him. Instead of being honest with himself, he did his best to adhere to what Turlough hammered into him. He was Scots, regardless of what his mother was. Not to the rest of the world. They looked at the Indian in him before seeing anything else. In sullen silence, he slouched down in the saddle. If she was right about that, what else did Adsila have correct? Had his father been nothing more than a soused idiot?

His mother..., Satin... Oh, sweet Lord, his mother. Turlough taught him to discount everything she said as foolishness. A female and nothing more than an Indian, her views were worthless. She had no reliable information on how the world worked. Satin. His father installed her as Mam’s nurse then used the woman without a care. Everyone knew Satin serviced Turlough. He felt it his due once Mam became ill. Buster’s insides roiled. He’d been ready to use Lace as his father had. Buster knew the old man would have bedded the daughter he sired if he ever got the opportunity. “They’re nothing but dumb brutes. Lazy and shiftless, if not controlled, they’ll fall into chaos. One must always maintain control.” His father’s words came to mind. That sentiment hadn’t only been applied to the slaves, it got heaped on the heads of the traditional Indians as well. When he’d asked his father if that couldn’t be applied to him because of Mam, the old man glared at him. “My blood makes up for the rest. She’s only useful for claiming the land without your being forced to deal with the Cherokee Council. Never forget, you are a Scot.” He never did forget. The problem was those other officers and even some of the enlisted men ignored his status. The way they saw it, half didn’t count. He did his best to change their minds. Turlough MacCullough, Junior had the best horses and two slaves to do whatever he asked of them. He had the best manners, the best setup with everything just so in his bivouac. It hadn’t made a lick of difference. A notch above his slaves by virtue of his means, he never rated as equal with the rest. Ahead of him, Adsila continued watching the trail. Since it hadn’t deviated from the bank of the Verdigris, they had picked up the pace. Buster guessed they must be gaining on them. In a narrow swale between two rolling hills, she came to a halt. When he came alongside, she turned to him. “Ya see anything different?” With a creak of the saddle, he changed position. “Sorry, I’ve not been watching.” “What if I missed something? What if we ran into a raiding party? There ain’t just White raiders out here, the tribes ain’t happy.”

“True. I’ll pay better attention from here on. I just had a lot on my mind.” Her stare measured him. Buster had a hard time not fidgeting. He wondered if she could see his discontent. “The trail ended behind the last ridge. I only wanted to check to make sure I had it right. I’m guessing they crossed the river back yonder.” He tried picturing the maps his superior officer had, the ones he’d seen often enough. One encomed what was called the Cherokee Nation on it along with what purported to be the present route to Oregon, the Oregon Trail. “If they crossed the Verdigris here, they can’t be heading to Oregon.” “Not unless they’re planning on trying to skirt trouble by going their own way.” “It’s getting late. I figure we can’t be too far behind them. Let’s call it a night, do some hunting and think about it over a meal.” Adsila gave a nod of agreement. “Makes sense. We’re better crossing the river come morning. The animals will be fresh then.” She dismounted and faced him over the back of her horse. “We don’t need a fire yet.” Her wide mouth formed a grin that made his heart bump up. “First one back with meat gets to sit and watch the other cook. Take care. We’re deeper in the other tribe’s territory now. If ya can kill without sound, do it. Whatever fire we make must be hot and done with quick.” “Yep.” He slid off the horse and grabbed the rifle. Buster wondered if he had what it took to bag anything the way she wanted. If he snuck up on a bird, maybe he could club it to death. He’d better practice his knife throwing skills.

He felt nervous about bringing the dead snake back to camp. Adsila probably had some juicy rabbit or a bird. Instead, when they both returned at the same time, she had the body of a rattler in hand. Buster chuckled as he took his hand from behind his back and held out a little smaller reptile, but of the same family. Adsila laughed until tears ran down her face. They cooperated in digging a small fire pit with a vent. Buster worked on the main hole, she dug out the vent portion. While he connected the two, she gathered up dead branches. As soon as they had a bed of coals, the skinned snakes went on sticks. While the water boiled for coffee, they ate. She poured the coffee, and he used the dirt to cover the small fire pit. Once the sod he’d cut out got replaced and dirt and leaves scattered around, you couldn’t tell there’d ever been a fire there. “What were ya thinking about earlier?” Her question startled him. “Things.” “Ya can do better. What things?” “Maybe Pa wasn’t real smart about the way he did stuff.” “Like treating yur ma bad as he did? That kind of stupid behavior?” He drained the coffee and tapped the grounds out into a small hollow he then covered with dirt and grass. “Yep. Maybe.” Buster kept his head down. Embarrassment had his cheeks warm. She sighed. “All he wanted was the land. He should have known better. The Council had rules in place long before he came along for that reason. Too many White men wanted nothing more than the land.” “I guess.” “Are we still going after yur brother and the lot? This still necessary?” None of what his father did or didn’t do negated his need for enough gold to

rebuild. Izzy would need to come up with more than he’d left Buster in Joe’s cabin. He no longer had an urge to snatch Lace from Izzy, though. The girl was his half-sister after all. But he acknowledged had he not met Adsila, he might still be interested. Not that he should be. Buster looked up to find she had changed position. The woman sat only a short distance away. He could touch her... if she let him. “Adsila?” Head cocked to the side, she grinned at him. “Are we going home?” “Naw. Not yet. I need to talk to Izzy. But...” He reached out to run one finger over her lower lip. “Y’all know, y’all are one hell of a woman. If I was to try kissing y’all, would I find a knife in my gut?” “Nope. I like ya just fine when yur not trying to be yur pa.” His hand went to the back of her head. Buster pulled her close. When his lips settled on hers, the woman let out a small sigh and closed her eyes. He could have done a victory dance. Instead, he settled for getting on his knees and pulling her into a close embrace.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Lace worked to spread out Grandpa Joe’s clothing so it would dry. Her hands still shook. They stood on the far side of the Arkansas River, and she thanked God for his mercy in getting all of them over. The man she looked on as her grandpa had come close to losing his life in the broad expanse of water. He sat shivering in a blanket before a hastily started fire. Abel and Izzy stood by the fire trying to dry out. Wet from head to toe, they had worked together to get Grandpa Joe out of the current and to safety. The old man had swallowed a lot of water, but Doc got it out of him after the men brought Joe to shore. No one had much to say. They were all alive and well, but it had been a close thing. Jem, the last child still with Joe, stood beside his father with a trembling hand on his shoulder. Leather had called Dogger over to give him a hand setting up tents. It seemed they would spend the night where they landed. Lace had no objection. She did worry about Izzy and Doc crossing the terrifying Arkansas all over again to go to Perryman’s and once more when they returned from making the purchases they planned. Not yet noon, she hesitated to ask, but thought as soon as he dried out somewhat, Izzy planned to take both the wagon mules for pack animals, grab Doc, and head back into the river. Which didn’t calm her tremors. How long they would be gone was unclear. Doc said they were below the trading post. He felt it would be best to travel upriver then swim their horses and the mules across to the Muskogee side. Since many of the Muskogee owned slaves and had fought for the Rebels during the war, Izzy was switching pants and hats with Abel. She didn’t think they would catch him out. Doc was another story. Although he said he could put on a reasonable show of being from the area, Lace still worried. There were a number of things to worry about. The other tribes, Buster, and

raiders from both sides. All of it was enough to sour her stomach. Lace understood saying anything to Izzy wouldn’t help. He’d already made his stance clear. Fretting about the lot wouldn’t change a thing. Something would happen or it wouldn’t. They could try to minimize the possible dangers, but nothing could be guaranteed. She understood that. The journey to California would test them all. Lace feared for Joe. The oldest one there, twisted with age, he would be vulnerable to the heat, cold, and lack of food if they ran short. Then came the toddlers. So far, the little ones were doing well. They would be months on the trail. The children wouldn’t have a way to grow normally until they settled. She understood if she allowed it to, worry could take over her every waking hour. It would only wear her down and help no one. Somehow, she had to find a way to deal with it all. “Lace?” Izzy’s hand caressed the back of her neck. “Y’all hear me? Doc and I are leaving. We’ll go upriver a ways before crossing over. Don’t worry if we don’t make it back until late tomorrow.” With a nod, she acknowledged his intentions. “But take care.” She fisted both hands to keep from grabbing his shirt. “The thing with Joe scared y’all. Hell, it took a couple years off me. He’s gonna be fine. Doc and I are strong. We’re going to get what we need and get back safe.” Izzy kissed her forehead. “Don’t let this worry y’all to death.” He said everything she’d been trying to tell herself since they pulled Joe from the river. Izzy turned to leave, and Big Lou came up on her other side. “Ain’t nothing y’all can do ‘bout nothing,” the woman whispered in her ear. “Old Joe is gonna leave this earth one day. It’s fact. Enjoy what y’all got while it’s here.” When she turned her head to Lou, the dark eyes staring back at her held sympathy and understanding. Big Lou had no man. Still, she threw in with the rest of them. Bet on making it through to a new start, far from Elysian Fields. The sound of the horses leaving the clearing had her bowing her head. She didn’t dare look at him riding away. He’d only be gone a little while. Izzy would return

before she had a chance to miss him. A lie, all of it. She missed him before he left. If she watched him leave, she’d bawl her eyes out. The only way to keep from throwing herself on the ground in a fit of anguish was to keep her eyes firmly on the rocks of the fire pit a short distance away. Mourning a man not dead yet might tempt fate. Sal ed Big Lou. “Girl, I know how it feels. When Abel left to go back to war with Buster, I near died.” The other woman bounced the toddler she held on her hip. “Finding his seed took hold put some joy back in me. Still, what if they won? I figured the master might take him away from me. Being a slave and bearing a child is another kind of torment.” “Uh-huh,” Tansy agreed from her seat on the grass as she nursed David. “Every minute I spent in the big house, I wondered if the old man would snatch my baby and kill him. Y’all can’t know how that terrified me.” Lace took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She missed a lot of what went on those years when she almost lived at Joe’s old cabin. Staying away from MacCullough had been the focus of her life. Nothing came before dodging the old drunk. A niggle of guilt because the lives of the others had been so much harder caused Lace to sigh. Keeping an infant quiet while she went about her duties must have taken quite a toll of the woman who seemed so relaxed now. “This ain’t gonna be easy. There’s any number of things to worry over—disease, death, hostiles. But this here is the chance of a lifetime. Ma didn’t have a choice. We do. Izzy fought for us all and Leather and me figured leaving is the only thing we can do,” Sal said. “Yeah. That’s the truth, right there. Ain’t a dang thing left for any of us back there. Forward is the only way to go. Ain’t figuring it’s gonna be all heavenly choirs when we get there. I’ll settle for being left alone,” Big Lou added. The eyes of the women gathered around the fire pit met hers when Lace glanced at each of the women. Grandpa Joe even managed a smile. Humbled by the courage she saw, Lace nodded. She needed to stop acting like a little girl and be the woman her man needed.

Chapter Thirty-Six

He couldn’t look back, just couldn’t. If Lace was crying, he’d probably call the whole trip off, and they had to go to the trading post. It was the only place to get any guns before they dropped into the lands of the hostile tribes. Almost losing her Grandpa Joe had shaken her more than he realized at first. They weren’t done with rivers, either. Lace had to toughen up a little. She could swim. He tugged Abel’s cap down lower. That wasn’t it. She cared about Joe. Watching the old man struggle in the swift current frightened the girl clear down to her bones. As soon as they got out of sight of the camp, he slowed Thor. Doc caught up to him shortly afterward. For a while, neither one spoke. Doc broke the silence. “She’ll be all right with a little time. It was a shock. Joe will be fine so long as he doesn’t contract pneumonia.” “Thank God y’all didn’t mention that.” His father grunted. “I’m not a beginner. I know how to deal with family . She’s already worried about Buster following us. Heaping more on the girl wouldn’t help a thing.” “Pardon me. I didn’t mean to suggest y’all don’t know what you’re doing.” “You’re as frightened as she is. Practically since the day you were born, you’ve been the one to stop and put a hand out for a friend. Having all these people depending on you to get them away from here and to California is a lot of responsibility. It isn’t an easy position to be in.” “That’s for damn sure. Half the time, I wonder if we shouldn’t turn around. I can deal with Buster. If I must break my word to Mam, then I will. I’ve got a wife and maybe a child to look out for. Hurting him comes second to Lace.” “How about all your neighbors? The ones who’ll be thinking of you as a

turncoat? If things go bad with Lincoln gone, this could become a war of another sort. Traditional Cherokees against the slave holders.” “Yep. I thought about that. It was another in the pot of reasons to get the hell out.” “Don’t second-guess yourself. You thought it through. Anyone who expected this to be an easy trek wasn’t using their head.” Izzy turned to glance over at his father. “I suppose not. If we stayed there, Able, Leather and the rest would have had to depend on Elysian Fields for jobs. The state it’s in now, I doubt it could a single family. We’d have starved once all the game got taken.” “Astute grasp of the matter. See, I knew you’d considered all the possible angles.” A chuckle from Doc Allen brought one from him. “A blind man could see what MacCullough did, actually didn’t do for the estate. He let it go to seed, along with everything else. I wish Buster joy of it. He’s gonna learn what it means to toil for his bread.” “I’m glad to hear you aren’t going to abide by the promise you gave Noya if Buster comes calling with murder in mind.” “Mam may have got him to swear to the same. Buster won’t honor his word to her.” “Correct. MacCullough turned your brother against her from the beginning. Noya said he wanted to make sure if she ever threw him out, Buster would choose to go with his father. She hated him for that.” “Was that the reason she took you as a lover? To cuckold MacCullough in punishment?” Doc reined his horse in abruptly. Izzy had to pull Thor to a halt and turned to face his father. “Let’s get that out in the open. We became lovers because she wouldn’t give up on her son. The manipulative bastard she married had her over a barrel and knew

it. I would have married her in a heartbeat once he was gone. Instead, we had to keep our love concealed from the bastard. I worried he’d do something crazy, and he did. He killed them both, Noya and Satin then himself. I tried to talk her into coming to town and living with me. She refused. By then, it was everyone else she worried over. Lace, Satin, the other slaves. And with good reason. Our happiness got sacrificed on the altar of slavery along with every other person who died because greedy men wanted free labor.” Izzy blew out a breath. “Sorry. I should have figured that out for myself. Mam always did worry over everyone.” “She did. Just as you’re doing now. You’re much like her. Quite a lot.” “That’s not a bad thing. I suspect I’m a bit like y’all, too. Y’all didn’t leave. It would have been easy to pack up and go find another place to live. Doctors, good ones, aren’t easy to come by.” Doc’s horse danced on its front feet. “I could never leave her... or you. As I said, you’re the only family I have.” “That doesn’t stop some men. Y’all should have heard some of the stories I did during the war. Men who up and left families to fend for themselves while they went off chasing something or other. They didn’t give a damn what happened to the women and children left to live or die on their own.” “Something neither of us is ever going to be guilty of. You don’t like leaving Lace now because you know she’s upset over what almost happened to Joe.” “I don’t. I’ll probably never bring that up again. I can’t swear that I’m done with how y’all and Mam happened, but I’ll try to bury it. We got someplace to be, and best be on our way.” “I agree. I’m not angry with you for opening that wound. This is new for you. I’ve been suffering with it since before you were born. But you need to realize it hasn’t ever healed. The best I can do is get it to scab over. Sometimes the scab tears off. When it does, I get morose and cranky.” Izzy reined Tor around in the right direction and waited for his pa to come alongside. “I can see where y’all might have a difficult time with the topic.”

A snort from Doc was all he got in response. It seemed the doctor has said his piece and didn’t want to go any deeper. “So, how far upriver do y’all think we should go?” “To the first good-sized bend of the river above the trading post.” “How are we going to know when we get there?” Doc took a spyglass from his coat. “With this, we can see the building from this side and still stay back a safe distance. The whole thing is close to the river to take advantage of any boat traffic.” “Handy.” “I try. It’s best to be prepared.” “How come y’all didn’t bring that out for scouting?” “It wasn’t necessary to bring it out yet. We aren’t quite into hostile territory. I thought to give it to you when we got closer. You, Abel, and Leather are the scouts in the group. Everyone else is along for the ride.” “There’s a rise ahead. Should we try to have a gander then?” “We should. You take it. My eyes aren’t as good as they could be. It’s all yours.” They crested the gentle rise and Izzy took out the telescope. “Amazing! This thing makes it feel as if I could touch the other bank. I don’t see anything close yet. But I think I see a roofline farther up. Next high spot we should take another look.” “Well, then. Onward. I’d like to get across the Arkansas before dark. Otherwise, we’ll be spending the night on this side.” “Not a pleasant thought.” Izzy nudged this horse with his heels. “Move along, boy. There’s a ways to go yet.” They crossed the Arkansas a little before the sun set. Coming down from upstream gave the animals a long diagonal course from one side to the other

bank. None of the horses or mules were winded when they reached the far side. They chose to make camp where they exited the water. Glad rain didn’t seem to be in the offing, both men spread their bedrolls beneath a large tree. A bit of side meat and cold beans Big Lou had set aside for them made a quick dinner. They didn’t bother with a fire. That might draw attention they didn’t want. Come morning, they would ride to the trading post and see what could be had. Izzy missed Lace, but felt too tired to fret. It had been a long hard day. He fell asleep as soon as his head touched the bedding. He wasn’t aware that his father stayed awake, thinking about the conversation they had on the trail.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

A bull of the woods, that’s what he felt like in the morning. A night with Adsila had him ready to walk around crowing. He’d found the woman he wanted. There wasn’t much he’d change about her... if she would change for any man. It might be the thing he liked about her best; she was much like Satin. He’d always considered his father’s concubine his mother. She’d done more to mold him than either parent. She’d been tough on him when it was needed. Still, he recalled being comforted when he’d done something which merited punishment from the old man. It wasn’t only the slaves who felt the bite of that quirt. That damn quirt. If it hadn’t burned in the house fire, he’d planned to chop the blamed thing into small pieces. The more his pa drank, the more that instrument of torture got used. Unlike others, he didn’t get to run off and hide from the old man. Adsila probably would have split MacCullough open like a ripe peach the minute he ed out drunk if he’d disrespected her or raised a hand to the woman. He couldn’t see her allowing any man to take a leather quirt to one of her children. He wanted that. Buster wanted a woman who had the spine to stand up for him, for their children. A woman he could depend on, not some sickly thing unable to care for her babies. She returned from freeing the horses from their hobbles as he secured his bedroll. Hers sat waiting for her to pick it up. Having taken care of hers first, he made short work of his. They’d put them together the night before, much to his surprise and pleasure. “Ready?” Her husky voice caused his body to tingle. “Yeah. Unless...” Adsila shook her head. “Slow down, MacCullough. Don’t get ahead of yurself.”

Instead of taking the reins she held out to him, Buster got close to her and put his arms over her shoulders. “I’m not getting ahead of anything. I’m catching up. A downright lovely woman is what you are, Adsila, daughter of Black Fox. Before anything gets in the way, I’d like you to consider making us a permanent thing. Mam’s clan and y’all’s are different. If y’all was to agree, we could make it official.” When she frowned, Buster put a finger across her lips. “Think about it. When y’all said you liked me fine, I couldn’t help thinking we could work out something. I know y’all got land to consider, same as me. It’s not that close to Elysian Fields, but we can figure it all out... if y’all really want to. Don’t tell me no; consider marrying me and see if it don’t fit decent.” The corners of her mouth tilted upward, and the frown disappeared. “Just how do ya know we aren’t in the same clan?” “I’ll it it’s a guess. But Mam is of the Wild Potato Clan. Keepers of the land and all that. I’ve got a feeling y’all’s different. Peaceful isn’t in y’all’s nature.” Her laugh, and the smile that graced her face, softened it. “Ya figured it well enough. We’re of the Wolf Clan.” His turn to laugh. “Warriors to the bone.” Buster kissed her cheek. “I knew it.” “I’m not pretty, and I’m tall for a woman.” “I’ll not lie to y’all, tall and rangy is what y’all are. But beauty ain’t all there is. Mam, now she was a pretty woman when young. But she got sick and couldn’t take care of things. All that beauty didn’t do her much good. Handsome is what y’all are. A fine figure of a woman. See here. Standing like this, I don’t need to bend down to kiss you.” He demonstrated what he meant. She leaned away from him with a sigh. “I’ll think on it. Ya gotta understand, I ever find out yur cavorting with another woman, first thing that goes is this.” Adsila grabbed the crotch of his pants. “Duly noted.” “Ya disrespect me before anyone, yur gonna live to regret it.”

“Agreed. What else?” He licked her lips and she groaned. “The land where yur house stood, I suspect it’s cursed. I ain’t living in that spot.” Eyes locked, they stood in silence as he considered what to say. “Maybe y’all know something I don’t. It could be; I’ll not count that out. We can turn the whole thing over to potatoes or corn.” He thought about the little glade where Old Joe’s cabin sat. “There’s another spot on the property. It’s closer to the creek. We clear it out a little and we could build there.” “Agreed,” she said with a grin. “So...,” He twined one of her braids around the strong, straight column of her throat. “Does that mean y’all is gonna do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Standing there, straight, and tall, Adsila nodded. “Seems like it does. I’ll marry ya, Turlough MacCullough, Junior. Don’t ever make me regret giving in this easy. ‘Cause sure as the rivers run and the grass greens in the spring, by all that’s holy, yur gonna regret it more.” “I’ve been straight with y’all. I want a woman who’ll take me to task. I was thinking about Mam and Ma this morning. Y’all know who Ma was?” “No.” “Satin. Pa’s concubine. Swear to God, she was more a mother to me than my own. Pa kept me from Mam as much as he could. He didn’t keep me from Satin, not sure why. But she was the one I went to when I hurt or needed something explained. Satin cuffed me across the head when I got out of line. I want someone like her. Y’all do the job just fine.” “This is the last I’ll say on it. Be damn sure what ya want. I’m not an easy woman, not soft.” “Honey, I know who y’all are. I’m the man who watched y’all slit a bunch of raiders’ throats while they slept. Adsila, daughter of Black Fox of the Wolf Clan, is the wolf bitch who will go for the throat of anyone who threatens her family. She’ll stand back to back with me in a fight and won’t let me get away with damn all.”

She pushed the reins of his horse into his belt and grabbed the back of his neck with her free hand. Her lips came down on his mouth with a fierce ardor that quickly turned teasing. Buster pulled her close. Almost gasping for breath, he held her back with one hand. “Ooo-whee! Damn if I don’t want to unpack the lot and get naked with y’all right this minute.” “Nope. Let’s get this over with. I want to know if we can expect yur brother to come calling with his hand out. We need to settle what’s what. Now that I have a stake in Elysian Fields, for our children’s sake, we need to get it all out in the open.” “That’s my woman. Mount up, sweetheart. Y’all can track way better than me. Let’s go.”

Across the Verdigris, Buster stopped and started a small fire. He wanted a hot cup of coffee before they went any farther. They got soaked crossing the river. The day wasn’t cold, nor was it warm, but a stiff breeze coming down river raised goosebumps on his arms. Getting sick wouldn’t help either of them. Once they caught up with Izzy, it would be a long ride back home. It did surprise him a little when Adsila agreed to stop and dry out before they went on. “I wish I knew the area better,” Adsila said as she put both hands out to the fire. “I’ve seen a few maps. The Colonel had several. I looked them over a couple of times. Let me see what I .” Buster picked up a stick and began to draw in the dirt around the fire pit. “Here. This will be Fort Gibson. The Verdigris winds around some before it s the Arkansas.” She leaned closer and put her head on his shoulder. That felt good. He caressed her cheek for a moment. “Up here, there were a bunch of Muscogee that fought with us. They said there’s a trading post on the river, about here. Or close to it anyway.” “Ya think they’re heading there?” Buster snorted. “That wouldn’t be a smart thing to do. Not with Izzy wearing that Union uniform.” “He could have changed.” “Well, yeah. He may have spent money on store-bought stuff. The way he talks, no one would know him for the traitor he is.” “Leave be. If we’re going to come to a resolution about the land, casting that up won’t help. He needs to listen before a fight breaks out.” “True. He must understand this isn’t over, not by a long ways.” “Probably why he’s leaving the Cherokee Nation.”

There was a lot more to it, but he felt no immediate need to air all the nuances. He wanted more gold out of Izzy and then the kid could be on his way. If he wanted to the slaves, so be it. “I’m sure that’s a big part of it. Thing is, Pa felt Izzy wasn’t his. He’s not dark enough to be from one of the male slaves. ‘Sides, I don’t think Mam was up to flitting out at night and meeting under the trees. So I can’t be sure. There was talk...” “Anyone and everyone talks. That don’t make it so.” “Abel is Pa’s get by Satin. He’s darker than y’all by a lot. It’s all a good question.” “What about Leather?” “Nope. Satin had him before Grandpa bought her, I think. She was one of the last he purchased before we left for the west.” “There’s a girl, isn’t there?” “Yep. Lace. She’s Pa’s too by Satin. Girl could for White easy. I wonder if she’ll try.” “If they’re somewhere else, it don’t mean nothing to us. Ya think the trading post is where they’re going?” “Damn good question, honey. Y’all about dry? If so, we can get moving again. We’ll find out more when we catch up.” Adsila stood and brushed her pants off. “We’re close. By tomorrow we’ll find them.” He went to help her mount and Adsila pushed him away with a smile. “Ya take care of yurself. I’ll handle me. If things change, I’ll let ya know.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Something went right. The clerk at the trading post sold them four rifles and four pistols, along with the ammunition, without argument. They got more coffee beans, sugar, and salt. A jug of linseed oil and enough lengths of cloth to wrap each gun went into the packs. The man wanted to haggle, Izzy obliged him. While they went through the motions, Doc Allen used the wrapping paper and ink he’d begged to make a quick copy of the map tacked to the wall. Once finished, they mounted up and rode out of sight of the building. In the trees next to the river, they reined in. With the horses grazing, Izzy broke out the cloth. “I’m gonna show y’all how to oil everything.” He ripped a section off the plain cotton cloth. “That is, unless y’all already know how.” “I don’t. Show me what needs to be done.” Doc Allen squatted down next to Izzy. “It’s gonna take some extra time, but I don’t want to take a chance on these getting rusty ‘cause they get a dunking.” “What about the cartridges?” “We’re tying them as high on the pack as we can manage and,”—he grinned at his father—“we’re gonna pray... real hard.” Both men laughed. Izzy figured it was so damned important they might as well make light of it in case all their efforts got done in by an uncaring river. “If you want, I can oil the guns and you can wrap them. You might feel better if you take care of that end of it.” “I’m gonna need some squares of this cloth soaked in oil. We need to get these back to camp with no damned water inside. Before we go anywhere, it’s time to give some shooting lessons. We can’t waste any of the ammunition but they, the

women in particular, need to know how to fire the things.” “I take it the oil-soaked patches are to repel water?” “It will some, but not a good soaking. Nor do I want the plugs dripping a bunch of oil into the barrels. This is the only thing I can think of that may keep them safe on the crossing.” He wrapped a rifle, laid it aside, and reached for the one Doc held out. “For having been used, they aren’t bad. If treated well, they may last a long time. Rust is the enemy, same as dirt and grime in the barrel. The rifling gets full of dirt, it can damage the barrel enough to make the thing near useless.” “You learned some interesting things in the war.” The doctor wiped the last rifle with the oil-impregnated rag and handed it to Izzy. With a grunt, Izzy took it and wrapped it after plugging the gun. “Learned a bunch about killing, that’s for sure.” “That’s sad. The whole damn war shouldn’t have happened.” “I’ll agree with y’all there. I can understand the revolution. The people who came to this land were mostly independent and wanting their way. With the king across the ocean, it left them with room to maneuver. Still, there were some real high in the instep types bound and determined to make money and steal land any way they could.” “Unfortunately, I suspect you can count your grandfather among those determined to make money any way they could.” The doctor handed him another firearm and sighed. “At least when slavery was made illegal, he complied with the law.” “Against the law in England.” Izzy wrapped the pistol and laid it with the others. “Yes. I hate to mention this, but through me, you can lay claim to the fringes of aristocracy. Several generations back were in line for a title. But it all became diluted. The second son of a third son, until all that remains is the gentleman part.” “It means nothing to me and from what I’ve seen of y’all over the years, it don’t

mean much to y’all.” Doc handed him the last handgun. “Correct. Something which bothered your grandsire to no end. My becoming the best healer I could pleased me.” He rose and wiped his hands on what remained of the cloth. “My skill putting people back together took me all over this great land. From sea to sea and as far south as I cared to go. Not one of my patients ever asked if I could claim ‘gentleman’ status. They were more concerned about my abilities.” “As it should be. I’ll bet when the blood was pumping, they didn’t care about the color of your skin, either.” Izzy got to his feet and his father tossed him the rag. “You would be surprised what foolishness some people are capable of. Allowing themselves to be touched by one not of their race or class is something certain idiots would die over.” After wiping his hands, Izzy stuck the remaining cloth into his pocket. “Y’all grab the pistols, I’ll get the rifles. Let’s get ‘em on the mules and get across that river. I’m ready to see Lace.” “We need to tie the lot as high as possible, I understand. You might need to help me. I’m not sure I want to take a chance on it all getting wet or floating away.” “Sure, Pa.” The term sort of fell from his mouth. Izzy watched the man who was his real father go still for an instant before walking to the lead mule. He shrugged. It was true enough; he should get over his reticence and acknowledge the fact. They worked in silence to get it all done. Doc Allen held everything while Izzy made sure the load was tied tightly. Losing items they needed to the Arkansas River couldn’t happen. There wasn’t time or money to buy the guns all over again even if the trader had any decent ones left. Picking the best of the rifles and handguns from the collection of used guns the man showed them took time. Some of them were too far gone to do much of anything. He’d had a few decent firearms left which were good for close work, his stock of long guns had been woefully small. Settlers, ranchers, men, or women with animals to care for wanted the long guns for protection or hunting. Feeding a family with a pistol wasn’t easy. Holding off

the wild tribes in the country they would travel through required a rifle. Soon enough, it was time to make the crossing. With both mules on long leads to give them room to swim, they eased the horses into the water. The plan remained the same. Don’t fight the flow of water. Pray a snag didn’t take you and let the animals swim on a long diagonal to the far bank. If a log came down on them, they would be lucky to make it out alive. It seemed to Izzy that he lost the ability to breathe until all four animals, the doctor, and he rose dripping out of the water. He knew they had to cross a few more rivers before reaching California. They had no choice. No matter how many times it happened, it was a gamble. If the water was high, there was the danger of swift currents and trees washed down from upstream. If the water was low, the danger of quicksand on the banks existed. A mud bog could easily swallow a horse. They couldn’t lose any of them, not a one. From this point on, they planned to stay as far from habitations as they could. To get to Santa Fe and pick up the old trail, they had to cross through Texas. Depending on who they stumbled across while on this journey, the Texans could be as dangerous as the wild tribes for their little band. Out in the wild country, people may not have heard that the Confederate States lost. Even if they did know, it might not make much of a difference. They couldn’t take the longer way around, up to the Oregon Trail and back down to the Santa Fe. They didn’t have the resources and would likely run into trouble anyway. Their best bet was still to sneak across country following the Canadian River after crossing its North Fork. Given the composition of his little band, nothing else made any sense. A long shot, they were gambling with their lives, but Izzy didn’t see another option. At least they were out of the Arkansas and would never need to cross that one again. He’d studied that map tacked on the wall a bit while the clerk wrapped everything. He had it in his head now for sure. It would be a long, lonesome ride for all of them. When they reached Santa Fe, they would take the trail already mapped out. Setting out on uncharted paths across that nearly waterless land didn’t strike him as reasonable. Using the trail, the landmarks and the waterholes were laid out.

They rode into camp still wet. But the supplies and in particular the guns were dry. Abel and Leather took charge of the mules while the boys tended to the horses. An arm around lace, he looked at the small camp. “We get situated, everyone gets lunch, and we’re gonna have a little lesson on how to load and shoot these weapons. Won’t do anyone a damn bit of good if they don’t know how to handle ‘em. We can leave in the morning around sunup.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Adsila pointed to the bank. He understood someone had dug out a age for a wagon. “They crossed here.” “They did.” He leaned forward in the saddle and surveyed the far bank. “What the hell are they up to?” She shook her head and the dark braids danced. When they camped, he had to convince her to let it hang loose and free. With them looped up the way she did, he couldn’t tell how long her hair was. Buster guess clear to her hips. It probably hadn’t been cut since the day she entered the world. He nudged his horse next to her and reached out to catch the closest braid. “Bet you ain’t never cut it. How about y’all let it all the way down some night and don’t bother to do it up until morning?” “Can’t ya think of anything other than fooling around?” Adsila reached for his wrist, but Buster tugged her across the saddle so he could kiss her. “Course I can. Food. I can think about it and y’all all day long.” Her hand went over her mouth. “Stop. Ya make me laugh and over there,”—her hand waved toward the far bank—“they’re gonna know someone is on their trail. I thought ya didn’t want to give him time to hide anything?” Having concentrated on her, he hadn’t noticed the faint hint of smoke on the far side of the river.” “I’ll wager it’s them.” With her chin, Adsila indicated the cut before them. “It’s a good day or so old. They made camp there.” “Wish I knew how far they are from that trading post I heard about. They must have a need for something from there.”

“That’s all I can assume. Still... there ain’t much between them and the tribes out this way.” “Hush a minute. Let me think. The maps the commander had, if they follow the Canadian River, the main channel, it eventually leads to Santa Fe.” The saddle creaked as he leaned forward to glance at the faint smudge on the sky. “They’re going cross-country to pick up the old Santa Fe Trail. My little brother is taking ‘em to California. It’s a free state. They’re trying to reach California. I’ll be damned.” “It’s no wonder he wanted to keep more of the gold. He’s figuring you get the land; he gets the money.” “I don’t give a damn what he thinks. What he spent is his, but he’s giving me the rest.” He nudged the horse close to the cut down to the river. “Let’s get across. The sooner we get to Izzy, the quicker I get what I came for and we can get along home.” “He may not have a lot left. No telling how much he spent on the gear,” her voice cautioned him. Buster felt his temper rise. The horse’s forefeet went into deep water, and he tried to force it down. Time to concentrate on getting across the river in one piece. Anything could come floating down from above and wipe him and Adsila out. “Give me a bit to get across. Then I can help you out on the other side.” “No need. I can cross a river. Been across the Neosho often enough.” “Damn stubborn woman,” Buster mumbled as the horse began swimming. He slipped out of the saddle and stayed on the downward side of the animal so he could grab on and mount before it took off on the other side. He didn’t mind her being so hard-headed. If she could look out for herself, it left him free to do what he must. Having a capable woman never hurt. He turned and watched her swimming along beside her horse. When she swung into the saddle and the horse lurched out of the water, he wore a smile. The wet cotton shirt didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Adsila looked great. He licked his lips. “Darlin’, y’all look good enough to eat. If I weren’t in a hurry, we’d stop here and dry out.”

She grinned back. “Eat, my foot.” “Yep, we could start there. It’s just a short way up to meatier things.” When her mount came up beside his, Adsila reached out to grab his shirt front. “If ya weren’t in such a hurry to give Izzy a hard time, we could stop and see about that.” Her mouth landed on his. Before they could do much, her horse bounced around on its front feet. “Damned critter. Alright. Let’s get on with it. How far away do you guess they are?” “If the fire was a small one, maybe the far side of those trees. We’re almost there. Buster, maybe ya should cut Izzy some slack. He’s got all those mouths to feed...” “Not my problem. He could have left the lot in Gibson. They could have worked for me.” “For wages?” “Room and board should be enough.” “Ya don’t have a place for anyone to stay.” “They could put something up. One big room until there was money and time to do better.” She sighed and didn’t say anything more. He felt her irritation with him. Too damn bad. He planned to do what he thought best for them, for their future. She’d have to put up with it.

They galloped up over a rise, and he had to pull the animal up short to keep from running into the fire pit. Izzy, rifle in hand, turned to face him. As did Abel and Leather. He noted Doc Allen was there as well. Everyone spread out a little. Rifles in the hands of the slaves bothered him, as did the sight of pistols in their belts. The women slid behind the men. Buster got off the horse and dropped its reins to the ground. He hoped Adsila took the hint and took care of the horses. He wanted them ready in case it all went bad. He took two steps in Izzy’s direction. “MacCullough! Y’all lost your senses? What the hell are you doing letting these Negros have weapons?” Lace darted out in front of Izzy. “Y’all get on out of here! I ain’t going nowhere with y’all. Izzy and I got married. Y’all can’t touch me, hear?” He did and, by the gasp from Adsila, so did she. Anyone with half a brain got the unspoken message. The fear in Lace’s eyes didn’t help. Buster had to bite back a groan. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Shut y’all’s mouth, girl. Y’all don’t mean squat to me.” Damn, had he fucked up. He forgot all about Lace, but she hadn’t forgotten the things he’d said to her. He wasn’t sure he’d have done anything. Still, he’d enjoyed watching her start shaking and run like a rabbit. He turned to reassure Adsila the girl meant nothing to him. Already in the saddle, she glared his way. Buster caught sight of a tear sliding down her cheek. Torn, he turned to stare at Izzy. “Control that Negra of y’all's. Damn thing upset my woman.” Izzy pushed Lace toward the doctor. “First off, I’m not a MacCullough, never have been. My name is Allen and you shut up about my wife. Next,”—Izzy jacked a round into the rifle—“what the fuck do you want here? Y’all got the land. I split the money.” The hoof beats of Adsila’s horse racing away from him spiked his temper. “I want the gold. Y’all got what I need to keep the property going.”

Chapter Forty

Lace knew he would find them sooner or later. She wondered who the woman was that dismounted behind Buster. Her wet shirt gave away her gender. What was she to Buster? No matter. Lace tried to control her shakes. She sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere with Buster. She’d kill herself first. Puzzlement followed by anger twisted his features when she told him so. One of the woman’s hands went to her mouth before she turned, shoved her moccasin-clad toe into the stirrup, and pulled herself into the saddle. Buster turned to the woman as if to say something. She had already reined the horse around and kicked it into a gallop as she rode away. Buster screamed at Izzy, and he pushed her toward Doc Allen. One arm over her shoulder, and a hand on her upper arm, the doctor held her immobile. Buster went still as a stone when Izzy told him he was never a MacCullough. She watched as his hand went to the butt of his gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. Izzy put a cartridge in the rifle he carried, but still held it so it pointed in the air. Buster demanded the money as she knew he would. Izzy laughed. “All I have is my share.” He waved his free hand at Abel and Leather. “I split it with the people who made it in the first place. Y’all want to try convincing them to give it back? How far y’all think to get with that?” “What kind of fool are y’all to give a bunch of ignorant slaves weapons? The first chance they get, they’re likely to kill y’all and take the lot.” Buster’s hand still hovered over the butt of the pistol. “They might do that to y’all if y’all tried taking what’s rightfully theirs. I’m not afraid. Y’all should be.” “That a threat, bastard?”

Lace needed to breathe. As she sucked in air, Izzy replied, “Not from me. But I wouldn’t try taking what they need to survive away from these folk. If I sit back and watch, it’s still four against one. Y’all might want to go after Adsila there.” Izzy lifted his chin in the direction the woman had gone. “Y’all gonna let her try crossing the river by herself when she maybe can’t see for crying?” “Fuck! Bastard! I need that damn gold.” One of Buster’s boots stamped the earth. He reminded Lace of an angry bull. “Y’all can forget that notion. The land should be enough. Don’t get any greedier than y’all are, MacCullough. Take what y’all got and call it good. The land is yours; I release all claim to it. Y’all best get to hustling if y’all mean to catch Adsila. Sounded to me like she was going hell for leather to get shut of here.” “He’s right. We ain’t giving up nothing.” Abel cocked the rifle he held. “I agree. We did everything but help y’all piss during that war.” Leather waved a hand. “We worked like mules in traces for y’all and that other MacCullough. Push it and the only thing here for y’all is a shallow grave. Best go chase that woman down.” Lace found herself thrust behind Doc, who drew a pistol from the back of his tros. “I concur. And since you’re threatening my only son, I won’t hesitate to make sure you’re dead.” “So you’re the lowlife Mam fucked,” Buster said. “Don’t say another damned word. Either pull that firearm or get on that horse and ride. There won’t be a second warning. Watch what y’all say about Mam. This is no joke.” Izzy moved the rifle across his chest. His right forefinger lay on the trigger guard. He grabbed the barrel with his free hand, ready to swing it around to fire. The silence in the clearing seemed to last forever. Rather than turn, Buster backed toward the horse. He pulled it around and mounted before anyone could say another word. Leaning low over the horse’s neck, he kicked it into a gallop as he left the camp. A huge sigh seemed to fill the air. Lace clutched her stomach. Tansy grabbed Leather and sobbed on his chest.

Lace ran to Izzy. “Is he gone for good now? Is this over?” The rifle went over his shoulder and Izzy stared in the direction Buster had gone. “I think maybe it is. I wonder how in the hell he got tied up with Adsila. Her pa and brother must be long gone to allow that.” “I never met her. Who is she?” “Her pa... he’s one of the traditionals. They had a place near the mouth of Ranger Creek on the side toward the fort.” By the look on his face, Lace could tell Izzy was listening. He turned to look at Abel. “We got a few hours before sunset. Tear it down. We’re moving out. It’s a cold camp tonight and we’re setting a watch.” He leaned down to brush his palm over her cheek. “Go help them get it done, sweetheart. I got things to discuss with Pa, and the men. Go along.” She ed Big Lou and the other women now crowded together in a tight knot. “Y’all think he’s gone?” Tansy’s voice shook. Big Lou stared in the direction Buster and his woman had ridden. “It could be. We best pray it’s so. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman made a man go in a different direction. There’s Esther in the Bible. She saved a nation. Maybe that one saved us. Sure as the sun’s gonna rise in the morning, Buster would have shot someone before he went down.” Sal groaned and Lace shook like a leaf in a stiff breeze. She knew who he would have aimed for—Izzy.

Buster didn’t see where she came out of the water. He’d been too far behind. Mind in turmoil, he rode up and down the bank. Cursing under his breath, he had to it she had been right about his giving it all up and going home. What would he do if she refused to listen to him? Would she believe he’d been tormenting the girl because he could? Because it gave him an additional way to poke at Izzy? He sure as hell hoped so. His heart ached and so did his gut. Bile came up in his throat when he finally found her trail. She had ridden farther downstream than he first thought. Gaze inspecting the far bank, he couldn’t see where she came out of the water... if she had. Buster prayed she hadn’t gotten tangled in a snag or somehow drowned. How far had the water carried her? He only had a few hours before dark to cut her trail on the other side. Surely, she hadn’t let the horse stay too long in the rushing current. It wouldn’t be good for either of them. She’d need a fire to dry out. Unless... she didn’t want him to find her. If she didn’t take care of herself, she could take sick and die. He urged his mount into the river one more time. It was the wrong place to go in. With no bend to give them a place out of the current to come ashore, he and the horse drifted a long distance before he saw a shallow spot. When they hauled up on the spit, both he and the horse were winded. It had to have a rest or neither of them would go any distance. The evening breeze off the water chilled him and the animal. His teeth chattered as he led the horse up the bank and into the protection of the trees. Mam had warned him about being intractable... like his father. Now he was paying for it. Buster prayed for Adsila’s safety. If this was the closest spot he’d come on to get out of the river, maybe she’d found it too. He pulled the horse toward the waiting trees. Head down, he surveyed the area ahead of him. There was a track and then a second one. Fresh, they had to be hers. Maybe God did pay attention. Pa said God was a tool used to keep people in line. He could have been wrong. Let him be wrong. The words were a chant in his head.

As the smell of smoke drifted to him on the wind, the horse’s ears went forward and it nickered. The small clearing held a fire, her horse, and Adsila. Knife in hand, she glared at him. “Ya wanted her. What did you and yur bastard pa do to that girl?” “Nothing. I didn’t touch her.” “Liar!” She growled at him. “Well, unless y’all call pulling her hair or plastering mud on her face something it isn’t, I never laid a finger on her. I can’t speak for Pa.” Dusk began to creep over the forest. The dying flames of the fire glinted off the knife she held. “Ya wanted her.” “No. I want a woman. Lace is a little girl. Y’all cross both eyes and stick out a tongue at her and she’ll run crying. I don’t want that. Never did.” Hands held out, palms down, in front of him, Buster took careful steps in her direction. The knife never wavered. “She’s pretty. Could for White if she tried.” “Suppose so. I don’t give a hang. Y’all need to get those wet things off and dry out. Y’all could get sick.” “Ya don’t care. All ya wanted was for me to find ‘em for ya. Ya got what ya came for now? More gold?” He shook his head, squatted before the fire, and threw in a few more of the sticks. “Not true. I left. As y’all said, I’ve got the land. If I have y’all, it’s enough.” “Stop lying to me! Why are ya still telling lies?” Buster stood and took another step in her direction. “Darlin’, y’all need to get those wet things off so they’ll dry. Get in the bedroll and let me see what I can find to feed us.” The moisture on her face was tears; they still rolled down her cheeks.

“Sweetheart, swear I’m not lying to y’all. I came after my woman. Izzy and the rest can do what they please. I’m ready to give it up and go home.” “Don’t come any closer. I’ll put this knife in ya. I will.” “Do what y’all gotta. I’m gonna do what I need to for y’all. I’ll not have y’all getting sick and dying on me because of some stupid little girl who isn’t half the woman...” He grabbed for her. Adsila raised the knife then it hit the ground. Buster took her in his arms. “Hush, sweetheart. It’s over. Lace means nothing to me. She doesn’t. Never will. We’ll go home, find the preacher and get married. Right now, I need to take care of y’all. I’ll get the bedroll and y’all start peeling that wet stuff off.” “Ya mean that?” She grabbed his chin. Dark eyes stared at him. “Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t? It’s y’all and me from here on out. Come on, sugar, let’s get y’all out of this. We can hang it on the bushes to dry.” While he got the bedrolls out, she stripped off the wet clothing. Buster hurried to find more wood before he could no longer see. When he returned, she’d pulled the blankets around her. In the firelight, her eyes gleamed. Like a wild thing, he thought. Which she was. “MacCullough.” Her voice was soft; he had to stop breaking the wood up to hear. “What, sugar?” “Ya need to get those wet things off.” She held the side of the blanket out and lifted her chin at him. “Come sit with me and we’ll warm each other up.” He toed off his boots, pulled the shirt over his head and reached for the button on his tros. “Coming, darlin’. That’s a grand idea.”

Epilogue

Izzy eyed the valley laid out before them. No rest for the wicked, it seemed. Still, there would be no more rising to trudge forward, always heading west. No more. They had finally come to California and picked this place to settle. The small town made up of others looking for a place to rest their bones, put down roots, and raise families didn’t look on them with suspicion. They were all newcomers here, no one better than the other. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe the others wouldn’t meet with prejudice. But he and Pa had talked with the other men over the long trip. The valley they laid claim to and hoped to either buy or homestead would be in Doc’s name to start. A wagon road went through the town, but skirted the mouth of the valley that reached a little higher into the hills. Near the mouth, he and Lace would situate their cabin. A narrow road skirted the trickle of water that meandered down from the crags above. He guessed the spring floods would wash it out now and again. Not altogether bad for them. It would keep others out. Between them, him and Doc, they would own the entire valley. No one would argue with the only doctor in a day’s ride. Which was the reason they worked first on Doc’s place slightly past the village and close to the road which snaked it way up their valley. Big Lou and Grandpa Joe’s place would be next. The two boys would be living with them. Old Joe hadn’t fared well on the journey. It took too much out of the old man. Lace knew it. Doc wasn’t sure he would survive the winter. Still, he’d stayed alive to reach this place, home for the rest of them. Freedom for him after a life of slavery. Using a glove, Izzy moved the pot of coffee away from the flames and poured two cups. The other men would be here soon.

Lace came out of the tent, puffing a little. Their attempts to curtail pregnancy had failed. He didn’t mind. All the cabins would be up soon and the lot of them would be warm and dry during the winter months. Their first child would be born on their land. Still uncertain about what he could do to make a living here, he was slowly coming to think raising fruit might be best. Lace seated herself on one of the logs he’d cut to use as stools. He gave her the coffee and she held out the hairbrush. After putting his cup on the ground, Izzy released her braid and brushed her long hair out. The trip here had lightened her hair even more than it had been in the Cherokee Nation, but her skin had turned a deep golden color. She was still the most beautiful woman he knew. “How y’all coming on Pa’s place?” “Tying in the roof logs today. Jem and Dogger have all the roofing boards whipsawn. Tomorrow the roof will go on. Big Lou and Grandpa are next up. She wants something she can add to come spring. Y’all gonna get involved in this scheme of hers to open an eatery?” He finished one braid and began on the other. “There’s a good bit of traffic on that road. I’m thinking Big Lou may have a good idea.” “Long as y’all don’t wear y’all’s body down to a nubbin, I’ve got no argument.” “Good. Y’all best not have. , I’m a free woman.” She giggled. Izzy shook his head. “When y’all gonna let me forget it? Not in this lifetime.” She turned to smile up at him. “Long as y’all keep on doing my hair in the morning, we’ll be fine.” The braid fell from his fingers as Izzy bent to kiss his wife. A hallo from up the trail had him mumbling a curse. “Abel and Leather gonna be the death of me. They could give a man a little time to ease into the morning.” She flipped the unfinished braid around, quickly finishing and fastening it.

“There’re just in a hurry to get Doc and Big Lou taken care of so y’all can get on with theirs. Winter ain’t far off.” Izzy waved at the two men walking toward their camp. “We’ll get it all done before the snow flies. Jem and Dogger about have all the lumber for the roofs and floors done. That stockpiled, they can help with the cabin building. It’ll be close, but it’ll happen. If we get unlucky and winter comes early, we can double up. Won’t be as comfortable, but it’ll be warm.” Lace left the log and went to get the oilcloth wrapped package of sandwiches for Izzy’s lunch. With her half-brothers almost at the tent and ready to collect Izzy, she handed it to him with a smile. “Here.” Her fingers squeezed his. “I love you. Izzy Allen. Y’all take care of my man today. No falling off the roof.” “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be as careful as I can. Same goes for y’all. I’ll be home before dark.” He strode down the trail to meet the others at the base of the little flat spot where they had pitched the tent. It would hold their cabin, eventually. As the sun rose higher in the sky, Lace stretched, hands on hips. She looked up, then down the valley. Mountainous, and a little rocky, the garden she planned must wait until next year. Digging the rocks our would be too much as big as she was. Lace hadn’t counted on getting pregnant, but didn’t mind. She had the others there to help. The fresh air of the valley drifted down from the peaks beyond. Snow already covered the highest of the mountains. This was a far different country from the Cherokee Nation, and she loved everything about it. Here, they were free. She had Izzy and her brothers all living around her. Izzy made it happen, as he said he would. The End

Interested in the history of Eastern Oregon? Here’s a good one for you.

Here’s a sneak peek!

Two Indians and A Dead Man: Chapter One

The jingle of the animal’s tack sounded much louder than he liked; alien in the forest. James was trying to get the miserable horse to descend into the draw. The sun would soon set, and he wanted to be sitting beside a fire with the coffeepot on before that happened. Still wishing he had kept the mare he traded off in Mormon country; James tried to soothe the animal by stroking its nose. The gelding tossed its head and snorted as it steadfastly refused to set hoof on the game trail that led down into the valley of the Grande Ronde River. All day the animal had carried him up and down the steep hills of the rugged mountains between Fort Boise and Oregon. James had an idea in his head of the area he was hoping to find. He and Norman had spent much of their free time discussing the great State of Oregon. Norman swore he was crazy for having ever left Oregon to fight a war that never seemed to end. Norman Kent had already reached the age of twenty-three when the war ended. James wondered how he managed to stay alive long enough to reach twenty-one the day after the ceasefire was official. They went their separate ways. Norman back to Oregon and James returned to Louisiana. At the time Norman tried to talk him into moving out to Oregon. James felt it his duty to go home and try to rebuild. ing the Union Army was not a mistake, he believed in the Union and had to fight for it. His attempt to return home to New Orleans was the biggest mistake James ever made. To the carpet baggers, he was nothing but another damned secessionist. To everyone James had once counted as a friend, he was a traitor. He could not win. But at least when he sold out, James managed to get a tidy sum for his property. Because of his service to the Union, James didn’t suffer as others did. It was easy for him to understand why his friends and family all thought of him as a traitor; it was true. He did betray the Confederacy by not believing and giving

the effort his all. He sought a new start. James sold everything he owned except for a horse, took the money and left town in the dead of night. As the miles steadily grew the conviction that this was the correct thing to do solidified. Somehow this last leg of the journey was proving to be the most difficult. A few more days and James hoped to reunite with Kent. That might happen if the damn animal would cooperate. “You miserable spavined hunk of horse flesh, what in the name of God is wrong with you?” James thought it was a legitimate question. He had stopped several times to rest the animal while traversing the steep hills. The gelding was as sure-footed as a mule on the nearly straight sides of the mountains. But he had learned early in their acquaintance that it had the temperament of a mule; pig headed as hell. Weary and fast losing hope of a hot meal, he stepped in front of the horse the seller had dubbed an Appaloosa and tugged the animal’s head down. “Will you stop being such an almighty pain and quit fighting? It can’t be more than a mile to the bottom, and we can both spend a decent night.” When the horse pulled backward nearly jerking his arms out of their sockets, James felt a flash of anger. He lifted the ends of the reins and barely managed to keep from slashing the horse across the muzzle with the loose ends. The sickening sound of a cartridge finding its way into the breach of a rifle alerted him to the danger the horse understood. Then a voice growled out of the scrub brush. “Don’t abuse him. The horse knew I was here.” Too tired and cross to be careful, James lowered his arm and glanced over his shoulder. “If you want the damn beast, take it. All I ask is you leave me my bedroll.” “That’s not what I seek here. I need assistance, and you can give it if you choose.”

James started to turn to view the man who was addressing him when the voice stopped him. “Stay where you are. I need your agreement to hear me out before we meet face to face. I have the devil of a problem and can do nothing further on my own.” With his free hand, James reached up to stroke the horse’s head, scratching between its eyes. He wondered if it was possible to slash his attacker with the reins and swished them slightly in front of him. “Do not do it. And do not reach down for the pistol. I want your help but will shoot you if I must. I have a daughter. A bastard who believed himself entitled to do as he liked stole Emmalee from me. I want my child back.” “That shouldn’t be too difficult. Go to the sheriff and I’m sure they will help.” A sigh from the other man drifted away on the breeze that filtered up through the draw. “The man who kidnapped my child is white. I am Metis; there is no help for our kind. He will use my daughter and toss her away like a rag. That is why I need another white man to help me. And the one who stole her knows my face. It cannot end well. I only want to find my girl and go home to Canada. It was a mistake to come here.” “May I turn around now?” James asked. There was another sigh. “You may.” James swiveled around and watched the man emerge from the brush beside the trail. Dressed in tanned skins decorated with beadwork, the man looked full blood native. “I see why you believe yours is an impossible task. But why should I help you? How do I know you are telling the truth?” The man took one step forward and allowed James to see his left side. A jagged rip in the hide shirt revealed a deep wound that appeared to be seeping blood. “I did not make this injury to myself. As you can see, it was done from the back. Only a coward does this.” It was James’ turn to sigh. “I suppose. But can’t we get down off the side of this damn mountain and find a flat place to camp for the night? If the horse moves along now, I’ll tend that for you once we settle down.”

“He will come without any more disturbance.” The man walked toward the beast and clucked his tongue. Ears pricked forward; the gelding took a tentative step on the trail. “I am called Two Fingers McCracken. Who are you?” James moved to the side and let Two Fingers walk the animal down the path. “James Madison Robertson, lately of New Orleans at your service. I’m plan to become a permanent resident of Oregon. And I hope helping you won’t mean I can’t stay here.” “I pray your hopes reach fruition. If that is the case, we will both have what we wish for without paying with our lives.” That sobering thought kept James quiet as they traveled down off the mountain side to the Grande Ronde River Valley. Buy it here!

About the author:

C. Forrest Lundin, award winning author. A lover of everything western, C. Forrest has read everything Zane Gray ever wrote. A recluse by choice, Forrest happily cares for the furry kids, reads, writes, and researches while the rest of the world turns. The amazing things our ancestors did to survive and thrive never ceases to amaze. Each new discovery sparks new ideas.

Other books by C. Forrest Lundin:

Two Indians and a Dead Man. Appaloosa Days. Escape from Elysian Fields. Short Stories: A Cow in Time. A Lady Without Means (winner of Indie Lector short story contest 2019). Winter Changes. Too Warm for Christmas. Got a Light? If it Wasn’t for Bad Luck.

About the Publisher

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