Blood Legacy (A Tony Masero Western) Page 6

  “I see somebody has been making hay whilst I slept,” he joked, although the tone implied something else.

  “What can you mean, sir?” teased Mary, pinching Zack’s sleeve between finger and thumb. “You think I might find affection for this damned Yankee here?”

  “I hope you have,” grinned James winningly. “For he is a fine and stalwart figure, that’s for sure.”

  “He is indeed,” she said, with a happy look of appreciation at Zack. “Now are we prepared?”

  They had packed their few belongings as best they could, carrying the few items in their pockets and the baby was bound tightly in as much spare clothing as they could manage. Mary carried Prudence around her neck, slung in the now empty Rebel soldier’s satchel. There was no food left and Zack knew their first priority was to find some supplies, as they would not get far without them. He guessed that Mary’s appetite was voracious with both herself and the child to feed and yet she had made no murmur of complaint or request for more than her fair share of the meager bounty they had consumed.

  For this and the few other courageous things he had noticed of her character he was proud of her and she had earned his respect. She still tended to the baby constantly and Zack thought that the child had shown little sign of recovery and now was had a greenish pallor and coughed up an ugly bile frequently.

  “I think,” Zack said to Mary as they set off. “That the first troops we meet, of whatever side, you must present yourself for Prudence’s sake.”

  She nodded agreement and looked down at the poor infant with a frown of concern.

  “The sooner the better,” she sighed.

  It was a gray day as most had been and although the air was chill the wind had dropped and they all felt energized to be on the march after so many days of inactivity. After a few miles they broke through some stands of cedar and were pressing through thick laurel bushes when they came upon a tilled field and in the midst, a Negro woman who was working alone bent over and digging out weeds.

  “Might be she’ll give us some help, do you think so?” asked James.

  “Could be,” said Zack, watching the woman as she hoed. “The Negroes can’t have much love of the Confederacy. I’ll try her, take the rifle, James and you two stay here out of sight.”

  Zack broke cover and started across the field towards the woman. She saw him coming and let off her weeding and lent on her hoe and watched him come. She was a large bodied, round-faced coal-black woman with her head swathed in a turban, a scarf about her neck and a long worn-out drape coat that almost came down to her bare feet.

  “Morning, suh,” she said when Zack was within hearing distance.

  “Good morning, ma’am. I wonder if you can help?”

  “Don’t the Good Lord Jesus tell us to he’p our fellow man?” asked the woman, resting her double chin on her hands and staring at Zack without any show of excessive concern.

  “Which is the road to Williamsburg?” he asked.

  “You one of them Yankees on the run? Heaven’s above! We heard you boys done made a dash for it.”

  “Well, I….” Zack began, a little perturbed by her instant discovery.

  “Captain Turner down at the prison,” the woman went on. “He got pickets and runners out everywhere’s. I declare, you fellas really upset the apple cart. Stay away from them bridges though, they’s all got blockade guards a’watching them.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” it was obvious the woman was friendly and Zack thought he might try for some more help. “We’ve got a lady with a sick child, I wonder if you can help us a little? My friend’s hurt also and we could sure do with a bite to eat.”

  “A sick baby! Well, you bring her in, mistuh. Come along o’ me, we’ll get you some eats right quick.”

  “And Williamsburg? Do you know if Union troops still hold the place?”

  “Sho’ they do, see them riding by most days. But then we sees the ‘Federate boys doin’ the same. Williamsburg is that way right there,” she pointed off behind her.

  “Bless you,” said Zack, patting her black hand resting on the hoe, at which she grinned broadly.

  “Why, I never had white folks touch me befo’ this surely is a special day. Come on now, get yo’ people and come along.”

  Zack waved to the other two and they left the bushes and hurried over the field towards him. The Negress laughed openly to see the two. “Look at them run,” she chuckled. “You peoples must be real hungry.”

  “That we are. I’m Captain Zachary Endeavor, by the way.”

  “Pleased to meet you, suh. They calls me Abilene, I don’t know why but that’s the way the master up at the big house wrote it in his book so that’s how I’m known.”

  “A pleasure, ma’am.”

  James and Mary came up and Abilene started forward to check the baby she carried.

  “Oh, dear me,” she wailed. “That poor chile is in need of some lovin’ care alright.” With that she dropped her hoe and lifted Prudence from the haversack and took her in her arms, cradling and clucking at the baby. Then she turned and marched off expecting them to follow close behind. Mary looked at Zack, a question in her eyes.

  “I think its fine,” whispered Zack. “She seems a more than helpful lady.”

  “Is Williamsburg nearby?” asked James.

  “That way,” Zack answered, pointing direction. “And our troops still hold it. Abilene here says she sees our boys pass by almost every day.”

  “Thank God!” breathed James. “Then we might make it yet.”

  “We’re close, James. So close. A belly full of food and a bit of luck and we’ll make it out of here yet.”

  Abilene lived in a small shack nearby with her teenage daughter Ruth and small son Clemence. The curious family turned out to meet them as they came into view and Abilene was soon issuing orders at a rapid pace, water was fetched and thick portions of yellow maize bread cut and passed around. Soon a thick vegetable broth was bubbling over the fire in an old iron cauldron and the three were seated in front of it and sagged with the heat after so many days spent in nail biting cold.

  Abilene fussed over Mary, bringing her a shawl and telling Ruth to rub the poor woman’s cold feet as she sat in front of the blaze. Clemence meanwhile studied the two men shyly until James tried some finger tricks on him and the boy began to smile as he saw there was no danger. Abilene took to ladling some form of fat over the baby’s chest and Mary watched her with consternation.

  “Don’t you worry, Missy,” said Ruth as she saw Mary’s frown. “My mama is a healing woman. She knows what to do. She has the juju and will make your chile whole again. You wait and see.”

  And it was true that Prudence seemed to respond well to the attention and soon fell asleep after Mary had suckled her.

  They were issued bowls of the steaming broth and they tucked in with relish, devouring the meal in seconds.

  “Lord, I do believe you peoples has hollow legs,” said Abilene with a laugh. “Best fill them bowls up again, Ruthie. These folks is nigh on starving, that’s for sure.”

  They spent the night in the welcoming home and they all slept soundly with full stomachs and a blazing fire that Abilene kept stoked all night as she watched over Prudence.

  It was the sound of horses and harness that woke Zack the next day, he looked around and saw that everybody was still asleep and the fire sunk now to glowing embers.

  “Yo! In the house,” came a loud call from outside.

  Zack was on his feet quickly, the Enfield in his hand. He moved over to the window as the others began to stir.

  “What is it?” whispered James.

  Zack pulled back a corner of the flour sack nailed up to act as a curtain over the window and peeked out. His heart sunk as he saw three mounted Confederate cavalrymen.

  “Come on!” came the impatient call. “You get out here.”

  Zack turned and placed a finger to his lips. “Rebs!” he said in warning.

  Mary gasped and slid over to pick
up Prudence. The two Negro children ran to a corner and huddled together as Abilene got up from the chair she had slept in.

  “Don’ worry none,” she said. “I’ll go see them.”

  She went over to the door as Zack sidled alongside, cocking the rifle as he came.

  “Yes, suh?” said Abilene from the porch.

  “You got some eats in there, woman?” called one of the Confederates.

  “I got some bread. It’s yesterdays though, ain’t baked none for today yet awhile.”

  “That’ll do. You bring it out here.”

  “Yes, suh.”

  “Got any coffee?” another voice called.

  “No, suh. Ain’t got no coffee.”

  “Alright then, fetch us that bread.”

  As Abilene bustled back in, her eyes rolling in fear and with sweat beading her brow, Prudence began to moan and then cry. Mary rocked the child desperately trying to calm her, she freed her breast and tried to get the child to feed but she would not, her cries becoming louder and more desperate.

  “What’s that, mammy?” came the call from outside. “You got a child in there?”

  Zack’s heart sank as he heard the jingle of stirrup harness as one of the men dismounted.

  “I’m coming! I’m coming!” called Abilene, hurrying to carve up the bread and set it on a tin plate.

  “You got a young gal in here with that babe?” said the approaching soldier as he climbed up onto the porch. “Let me have a look at that.”

  Zack leveled the rifle from behind the doorframe as Abilene brushed past him. “Here you are, suh. Here’s your bread.”

  “That baby sounds real upset,” said the man outside and Zack could see his shadow reaching into the shed.

  “The chile is alright, just fussing a mite with the teeth, you know,” said Abilene.

  Mary clutched at the baby trying to hush it desperately but as if she sensed her mother’s fear, Prudence began to wail louder, her tearful cries a piercing sound in the small room.

  “Let me see that,” said the Confederate brushing past Abilene.

  “No, suh,” gasped Abilene but it was too late, the soldier was already inside.

  He looked around and his eyes widened as he saw Mary and the child, then the two frightened black children and finally James. All of them crouching and in pale deathly stillness.

  Zack lent the rifle barrel forward until it nudged the side of the Confederate’s gray forage cap.

  “You like your head the shape it is?” whispered Zack. “Then don’t you say a word, just step right inside.”

  The man froze, his hands automatically moving away from his waist and the pistol holstered there. He came inside slowly moving carefully into the shadowed interior and out of sight of his fellow Confederates.

  “Don’t do it, mister. Don’t you dare,” he muttered, the fear evident in his voice.

  “Hey! Lucas, what you doing?” one of his companions called from horseback.

  “Tell him everything’s alright,” Zack ordered, nodding at James to take the man’s pistol.

  “It’s okay,” the man cried shakily.

  “That baby alright?” the man outside called.

  “Tell him it’s fine.”

  Abilene pushed her way carefully back into the shack as the man answered.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Come on out then, before Able eats up all this here bread.”

  Zack nodded at James and he cocked the revolver and pointed it at the soldier. Zack whirled around out through the doorway and covered the two mounted men.

  “Stay where you are!” he called loudly. “Or I’ll shoot.”

  The two men gaped, taken completely by surprise. Both had handfuls of Abilene’s maize bread and one had his mouth full of it as well.

  “Step down here,” Zack ordered.

  One of the mounted Confederates disobeyed the demand and instantly threw aside the bread and whirled his pony, dragging it around and laying in his spurs he urged the beast into a burst of speed.

  His companion cried out, “No, Able!” but the rider was already racing away across the field.

  Zack put the rifle to his shoulder, aimed and fired and the Confederate bucked in the saddle as the slug hit, he arched his back and sagged sideways then slipped from the back of the bounding animal.

  His friend had pulled his pistol from its flapped holster and was aiming at Zack, who dived forward off the porch. The Confederate fired and as he did, Zack heard two shots come from inside the shack. He stumbled down from the porch as the Confederate’s bullet winged close by his ear and he lunged for the rider’s reins, jerking the pony’s head away to one side he reached up and grabbed the soldiers gun hand. With a mighty pull encouraged by desperation, he dragged the man from the horse and the two grappled on the ground.

  The women were screaming inside the shack and there was another crack as a pistol was fired again. Zack rolled on top and looked down at the cavalryman under him. He was a young sandy-haired boy, who could not have been more than eighteen years old but his face was twisted into a wild grimace as he punched up at Zack. His fist caught Zack a blow on the side of the head and brought stars to his eyes, he staggered back dizzily but did not let go of the pistol hand. The gun went off, firing blindly into the sky.

  The boy was kicking now and squirming under Zack, his booted legs thumping into Zack’s side. Zack struggled to get a hold of the Confederate’s other arm as it flailed at his face, the fingers reaching to claw at his eyes. The boy was desperate and angry and he was fast getting the upper hand over Zack’s weakened state after months of poor food in the prison and the trials of his escape.

  There was a shot close to Zack’s ear and the boy fell back, a red cavity appearing in his forehead and a great burst of blood splattering on the ground under his head. He was instantly still and James spun around to see James standing limply beside him, the smoking pistol in his hand.

  James was sobbing and shouting something but Zack could not hear him, the gun explosion fired so close had deafened him a little.

  “It was a stray….”

  Zack heard it vaguely through the haze of hissing in his ear that made the shouted words sound as if he were underwater.

  “Nothing…. to do….”

  As his hearing cleared he made out the long continuous wailing from inside the shack. It was the sound of distressed women crying and weeping.

  Zack jumped to his feet. “Get their ponies,” he ordered as he rushed up onto the porch.

  He burst through the door and saw the dead Confederate cavalryman lying face down on the beaten earth floor with two bullet holes ripped through his uniform and a pool of blood spreading out from underneath him.

  Beyond the body stood Mary, her face pale as milk and a bloody bundle clutched in her hands. She looked at Zack, her mouth open wide in anguish and her eyes staring madly at him. Beside her was Abilene and her children all clutching each other and crying pitifully.

  “Prudence!” Mary screamed, holding the bloody bundle out to Zack. He could see the little head inside the bundle with the eyes half lidded and glazed. She was dead, having taken the stray pistol bullet intended for Zack when it passed into the shack as he fought with the soldier outside.

  Zack hung limply in the doorway leaning his shoulder against the frame, he felt drained of all emotion and could only watch dumbly as Mary sunk to her knees, her suffering more than Zack could bear to watch.

  “Riders coming!” James called from behind him.

  “Lord Jesus!” cried Abilene. “They’s coming. The ‘Federates is coming.” She turned to face Zack with pleading eyes. “Mistuh, you got to flee. They will burn my house down but take this sweet lady and her dead chile and run before they come.”

  Zack shook his head. “No,” he said bitterly. “This is enough. Mary has suffered more than her share, I’ll not put her through more.”

  “Look!” cried James. “Look, Zack, they must have heard the shooting.”

&n
bsp; Zack turned on the porch to look at the advancing column as it rode across the field towards them. They carried their flags bravely, fluttering and snapping in the breeze as they came.

  Blue shirts! Zack saw blue shirts. The battle flag straightened out and he saw white stars on a blue panel and red stripes underneath.

  “They’re ours!” cried James jubilantly “It’s our boys.”

  ~*~

  The troop of the 11th Pennsylvania Regiment took them back to safety at Williamsburg. Their long journey was over. Here they were separated and in the confusion Zack could not get any details of Mary’s whereabouts. He searched for days but it was to no avail. The heart-torn girl had disappeared, vanished as if she had never existed at all. The only evidence of her existence was a small grave with a wooden marker left in a corner of the Williamsburg cemetery.

  James was carried off also. Once word reached his father of his deliverance from Libby Prison, a private carriage was sent for James and with all speed he left with only a moment to bid Zack farewell.

  “They have a physician waiting on me. We’ll stay in touch,” he promised, as the carriage pulled away. “I’ll not forget you, Zack,” and with that he was gone.

  Later, in Annapolis, Zack spent two weeks in hospital recovering his drained resources. From there he was sent to Washington to settle accounts with the government and later on May 10th of 1865 he was released from the army and back in Boston.

  Chapter Six

  Boston - 1876

  The railroad trip from Boston to Chicago was to be a long haul and that was only the beginning of their journey. From there they traveled south until they were to take the Texas and Pacific Railroad to the track’s end at Fort Worth, the most recently completed stretch.

  The daily, No. 6 Fort Wayne and Pennsylvania R. R. steam train left Boston on time and headed for their first major stopover at Pittsburgh some thirty-two hours away. It was an Express sleeper train with a Hotel Car and meals served, so Zack was pleased to see that at least their bodily comforts would be taken care of.

  The twenty-seat Pullman parlor car they settled for was opulently majestic and the height of comfort with carpeted floors and plush, single rotating seats to allow easy viewing as they passed through the countryside. Each car was gas lit and decorated internally with neatly wrought overhead luggage racks and fine filigreed moldings on all the ceilings and walls.