Gather The Children (Chronicles of the Maca Book 2) Page 13

  “Nay, ye said, 'I sorrow.' ” MacDonald stopped and turned towards him. This time Lorenz caught the hard glint in the man's eyes. “Did ye nay mean it?”

  Somehow his words had got twisted. Lorenz figured it was MacDonald that hadn't meant he accepted the words. Lorenz felt his face sagging as he scrambled for words in his mind. “I shouldn't have upset Mama. That was wrong.”

  “And the shotgun aimed at my gut was nay?”

  “Ah thought y'all had hurt her!”

  “Hurt tis nay what a man does with his wife.”

  “The hell!” Lorenz broke in. “I saw what they do!” His face was flushed. “The women were screeching like something already dying.”

  “Aye, with good reason. Those men were brutal strangers, and using them in a brutal way ere they killed them. That tis nay the way of decent men with those they love. The object is to give each other pleasure.”

  Lorenz stared at the man. He was talking about his ma. “I don't want to know,” he muttered and looked off toward the mountains. Was this what Mama meant when she said it was for MacDonald to explain because he was “Papa?” Did someone as brutal as Rolfe explain to Martin?

  MacDonald grinned and clamped his hand on Lorenz's shoulder, aiming him towards the barn. “Ere ye have yere first bedding, ye'd best ask. Now we have work to do.”

  Lorenz's original surmise about the haying was correct. By the end of the day, every muscle ached from pitching the hay upward while in the field and then downward into the barn. Why had Martin complained about losing this job? To add to his misery, blisters had formed on his hands and hay had sifted down into every crinkle and crevice of his body. Yesterday's meals were but a dream. There had been nothing but beans and biscuits for the noon meal, and supper promised to be the same as his mother was still working at something, laboring over a cloth, covered board with what looked like a shirt draped over it. Lorenz began to see why towns would have a lot of young drifters looking for an easier way of life. When MacDonald suggested a different way to cleanse the hay fragments from the body, Lorenz stared at him dully. He didn't want another bath, but there sure didn't seem to be a stream handy other than the spring bubbling in the springhouse.

  “We twill have to make do with cold water,” said MacDonald as they filled one of the tubs with well water and carried it and a bucket behind the washhouse. It took another trip to retrieve the clean, ironed clothes, and one towel.

  “Now we strip. We need nay fear the ladies twill disturb us.”

  They poured the cold water over their bodies, MacDonald obviously relishing the cold biting into his flesh. Lorenz felt the shock of it, and after dipping the bucket into the tub and pouring the second bucket over his head and down his body, he grabbed the towel. The itching had subsided and all he wanted was his clothes, a meal, and rest.

  He should have known better. Once again he was set to milking and helping with the evening chores. Supper was a repeat of dinner as his mother was still in the kitchen devising (according to what he discerned from the conversation) something to take with them tomorrow. His rest consisted of sitting at the table with books and papers while MacDonald explained the arcane ways of reading, letters, and numbers. To his surprise, he was able to make sense of most of it, and words seem to leap off the page. He did not see the small smile of satisfaction on MacDonald's face, nor would he have understood it if he had seen.

  His complete ignorance of the way people learned worked to his advantage. Since he did not know what he was doing was beyond the norm of most human beings, he did it.

  Anna appeared and claimed a sleepy Mina. “I can do that, my love,” offered MacDonald.

  Anna smiled. “Nein, I need to be busy. I must make sure everything is tomorrow more ready. I have a while before the fire checking.”

  MacDonald shook his head as she walked away. The secret laughter gone from his eyes and his voice as he growled, “She does nay even ken how tired she tis.”

  Lorenz looked up puzzled. “How can y'all tell?”

  “Whenever she tires, her English becomes more German.” He shifted back into the chair. Ye are doing well. Do ye wish to take a break outside and then hit the sack? We twill be leaving early in the morn.”

  Lorenz stretched and realized how tired he was. “Ah reckon,” he answered.

  When they returned, MacDonald suggested, “Why nay strip down to your underwear? They cover ye, and your mither has seen ye naked. It would nay offend her and would be far more comfortable sleeping. Ye can hang the trousers and shirt on the chair, and they would nay wrinkle overnight.”

  Lorenz hesitated, and then shrugged. Why not? He rapidly stripped down. He hadn't told Mama, but he liked the crispness and smell of the clothes since she laundered them. Even the smell from the soap was different from the laundry that Rity had Theresa do. It seemed his mother possessed some secret for doing things that other women out here didn't know. He swung onto the daybed and waited for the ropes, but MacDonald reseated himself and picked up the paper Mama had read the night before. Lorenz closed his eyes. If he pretended to be asleep, he might just be able to slip off tonight. Damn, he didn't realize that haying would be such hard work. It was good to relax and lose the tightness in his muscles. He felt instinctively that he was safe, and no one would try creeping up on him tonight. The heaviness in his head overtook his intentions, and his eyes closed, and then his breathing slowed.

  As Anna came into the room she stopped and looked at her sleeping son and husband reading contentedly. MacDonald looked up and smiled at her. She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. He elaborately laid a finger to his lips, winked, and then stood. They both walked out into the kitchen where the heat still seared the lungs.

  Anna quickly added two pieces of wood to her fire after checking the gauge on the oven. As she straightened, she asked, “Did he promise not to run?”

  MacDonald's laughter was soft as he took her in his arms and whispered, “Nay, but I dinna think he twill wake ere morn. I worked the laddie today. Mayhap harder than I should have, but he twill sleep deeply this evening.”

  His words were correct. Lorenz did not hear his mother exclaim over the perfection of the pie when she pulled it from the oven. His eyes remained closed as she and MacDonald carried the food out to the springhouse to keep everything safe from rodents overnight. His body did not stir as MacDonald picked up his boots and socks before blowing out the lamp. Anna and her husband smiled at each other and then they retired for the night, gently closing the door behind them.

  Chapter 7: Family Gathering

  Grey, morning light was pushing against the black sky, and a grim-faced Lorenz was riding in the back of the MacDonald family cart. One arm was hooked over the board edge and his legs sprawled out in front of him. Mina was asleep on an improvised pallet and the food was stored in a basket lashed against the sideboard. Mama and Papa, no not Papa. Why was he thinking like that? Something must be wrong with his head. MacDonald might be a good man like his Ma claimed, but he sure as hell wasn't his Pa.

  The grey sky became threads of rose hued gold massing towards a blood-red center as he tried to figure out how he was so easily consigned to riding in this cart like some snot-nosed kid no older than Young James. He remembered frantically searching for his boots after he'd heard a noise in the bedroom and realized he'd slept too long.

  That was how it happened. He'd been a fool and slept too long. After that, there was nothing to do but get dressed and follow every direction MacDonald had given. He'd been outraged when MacDonald informed him that neither of them was riding horses into Schmidt's Corner.

  “But what if we're attacked?”

  “'Tis nay out there now,” replied MacDonald.

  Mama had appeared carrying the basket. She was dressed in some sort of grey suit, and the white hair enshrined her face like a halo in the half light of dawn. He remembered thinking she was a fine figure of a woman, and no wonder MacDonald didn't seem to care if he appeared younger. Suddenly he was glad of the
darkness as he blushed. He'd clambered up into the cart when MacDonald pointed, thankful for the opportunity to hide his face. The next thing he knew they were out on the road, and Mama was talking a blue streak to MacDonald.

  They had ridden, Lorenz figured, about two miles when MacDonald pointed off to the left and announced, “Tis the Rolfe headquarters.”

  It was light enough to see half-roofs, but only the barn, stable, and another outbuilding were distinguishable as separate entities. The house looked half there with the roof slanted back into the side of the high banks. “Where's the house?” asked Lorenz.

  “'Tis just the front and the kitchen ye see. The rest of the living quarters are dug back into the cliff. They moved there after their house in Schmidt's Corner was burned by the Rebs.”

  “Drunken hoodlums from Arles, du mean, Mr. MacDonald,” sniffed Anna. “Thank Gott du and Mr. Rolfe had come home. They vould have burned us all out.”

  “Would ye please call me Zeb or ZebZebediah till we are in town?” It was the first time Lorenz had heard any reproach in MacDonald's voice to his wife. In fact, the man sounded peeved.

  “And vhat kind of example vould that set for Mina?”

  “She tis asleep,” MacDonald replied.

  “And vhat about Lorenz? He needs to know vhat to expect from a wife,” Anna retorted as though she had not been interrupted.

  “Ye Gods, woman, with any luck at all, his wife twill call him by his name.”

  Lorenz blinked his eyes in bewilderment. Were they planning to wed him off to someone? And were they talking about now or the far future? Were they really planning on him being around that long? Nothing, nothing at all made any kind of sense. He was accustomed to getting up in the morning and somehow getting enough to eat to live until the next day. Who thought about years later?

  It took another hour to arrive at Schmidt's Corner. During the trip, Mina awakened which necessitated a wagon stop, and then crackers were passed out when she complained about being hungry. “'Tis a wee bit of sustenance,” was MacDonald's comment.

  The road became more of a road and not just two or three ruts wearing into the soil. Lorenz could see the river here was fuller, before bending away towards the south and gradually tapering into the distance. As they approached the settlement, the road seemed to have been smoothed. He couldn't help but wonder who would bother. As he looked down, it seemed as though there were lots of fresh sign. Now what?

  This town had no outlaying residences. Instead there were the remnants of a burned out hulk of a once prosperous household with a wooden finger protruding from the foundation, rising in the air as if to defy those who had tried to completely destroy it.

  “That vas the Rolfe place,” Anna stated. “Du should have seen Mr. MacDonald,” and she stressed the formal pronunciation of his name. “The place was burning, and Olga vas crying about her mother's organ being the most precious thing she had left. He vent in and carried it out all by himself. The next time ve get together, ve vill have to go there, and she can play for us.”

  The rest of the town consisted of buildings lined along the river. The first was a smaller dwelling next to a blacksmith shop. The boards were still marked with bullet holes and burlap hung over the windows. “Tom Jackson's place,” explained MacDonald. “He lost his leg in the war, but he's still doing the smith work for us.”

  Next was some kind of cantina or saloon, a small place with the door propped open. “Tis Owens that owns it,” and MacDonald smiled at his use of words. “He lives out back in a small house. There's another smaller house there for the Mexican family. Cruz sometimes works for us or anyone that might need a handyman. Their lassie tis about twelve or thirteen.”

  Anna sniffed, but didn't elaborate on her disdain. She did, however, issue one of her few orders to Lorenz. “Du do not go there mitt out Mr. MacDonald.”

  On the opposite side of the road, up a small incline, there stood a rail fence with a lonely tree and headstones inside to mark the site as a graveyard. They were approaching a general store with a sign swinging between the porch posts. The sign proclaimed this bit of earth as Schmidt's Corner. Beyond the general store it looked like there might be another abandoned building or two, but Lorenz was not certain. He was looking at the signs of more recent traffic. “Hit looks like a big outfit came through here.”

  “Aye,” answered MacDonald as he swung the team through the space between the saloon and the general store. “'Tis probably the Blue Diamond freight train. Anderson said they twere headed this way.”

  They were on another road-like track that ran behind the buildings. The small river lay about thirty feet beyond and part of the ground was taken by two small cabins, plus the outhouses. The ground on the other side of the general store was a garden, fenced by wire and stone and another outhouse. It looked like the owner had used any fence material he had been able to scavenge or secure. The back portion of the two story general store was obviously a home and storage area. The back of what had once been a livery stable was open to the elements. All of the buildings showed the neglect of the war years and were in need of a fresh coat of whitewash. As MacDonald had speculated, there were freight wagons in front of the open stable. The men from the freight wagons were milling in and out of the back of the saloon, and back to the wagons while giving the garden and the general store a wide berth.

  At the steps of the porch, MacDonald pulled up the team. A tall, slender, grey-haired man in black trousers, collarless white shirt, and vest came running down the steps, grinning broadly and calling, “Welcome, welcome.”

  Lorenz stared at an older version of himself with a mustache. Damn, he thought, I might as well had a sign around my neck saying I'm his kin. The man reached up and offered his hand to Anna as she alighted from the wagon, and then he lifted a squealing Mina into his arms. At MacDonald's nod, Lorenz swung over the side.

  “Kasper, this is Lorenz.” Anna re-introduced her twin to her son, extracted Mina, and set her on the ground. “Lorenz, this is your Uncle Kasper, mein bruder, brother.” She was smiling with pride.

  Kasper put out his hand and smiled. Lorenz grasped it and noted the man's eyes were as grey as his and Anna's. There was no doubt the two were twins. They stood the same height and the shoulders were equally wide. The difference was in her feminine form and in his mustache, slightly broader chin, and a more prominent Adam's apple.

  “It is so good to see you again, Lorenz. We've all prayed for this day.” The man was beaming at him. “Aw, who cares?” With that the man threw his arms around Lorenz and actually hugged him. Lorenz was too startled too protest.

  Kasper released the young man and continued to smile. “Do you remember playing war games with me?” His speech, unlike the others, was without an accent.

  Lorenz started to shake his head no and then realized who he was looking at. “I thought y'all was a kid,” he blurted.

  Kasper clasped his shoulder. “That's because we both enjoyed the game so much. You were quite an opponent for a child. I still have the set packed away somewhere. I haven't looked at it for a long time.” The smile faded from his face and he changed the subject.

  “Come, come, Gr Gerde is waiting. There are some fresh rolls for refreshments before the service.”

  What did he mean service? Nobody said anything about a preacher man. As usual, their words had meaning for everyone but him.

  MacDonald handed him the basket. “Here, ye carry this inside and greet yere Aunt. I twill put up the team.”

  He could think of nothing to escape, and his mother slid her arm through his. “This is so vunderbar, vonderful. Ach, Lorenz, you cannot know how I've longed for this.”

  They walked the short, dusty distance and up the steps. Kasper, again carrying Mina, opened the door for them. “GreGerde, they are here!”

  This kitchen was large, clean, and neat; not the clean, neat of his mother's kitchen, but extraordinarily so. The windows sparkled, the floors shone, the air redolent with lingering aromas from the ear
ly morning baking, and what few dishes were still dirty from the meal preparation were stacked in a mid-sized metal tub on the counter. There was no idle potholder waiting to be used, no child's toy in a corner, no pad of paper, or book left on the huge round table occupying the center of the room. There were cabinets lining the walls and fresh linen on the table. At least this woman was normal sized. She barely came up to his shoulder. Her hair was a true, medium brown as were her eyes. The mouth seemed to be pulled into a perpetual frown, and the eyes were bitter with sorrow. She gave a tentative half-smile and extended her hand. At least here was no pretense of being overjoyed at the sight of him. Lorenz sat the basket on the counter and removed his hat. From the front came the sounds of another wagon pulling up and the shouts of greetings from the men.

  Lorenz was about to go help MacDonald when young James burst into the kitchen yelling, “Tante GerGerde, hello.”

  She bent to hug young James, and both Mina and James began to plead with her. “Can we have some candy, Tante? Please, please,” they were chanting in unison.

  A look of satisfaction came over Gerde's face and she went to a large jar set on the counter by the window and unscrewed the lid. “And what do we say?” she asked.

  “Danke schon,” they both replied as they palmed the candy and then popped the dark, hard round into their mouths.

  Lorenz stared at his aunt as though he were seeing a ghost. “Tante, yu, y'all are Tante Dirty, “he gasped. It was though he had been hit in the stomach. That last day, he and Daniel had been fighting: fighting over the last of her candy. “Mama, we wuz just fightin' over candy, that's all, just candy.” Desperation laced through his voice as he remembered that long ago pain. “Why'd that make y'all so mad?”

  Everyone was looking at him, including the small, young woman who had entered carrying another basket. “Lorenz,” his mother admonished lightly, “du are too big to call GreGerde that now.”