Black Ransom (3 page)

How could any man erase such images from his thoughts? While he tried to forget, he understood they would be stamped on his brain until the day he died.

He didn't fear death, and neither did he fear the prospect of hell. To his mind, he'd already been there.

The one truth, the one fact that Ehron Lee could never deny, was that the war had forever changed him. He was thankful that he hadn't become bitter or mean-mad like other soldiers he had served beside, those who could not reconcile defeat after all they had suffered and whose disillusionment had followed them into civilian life. But where once Ehron Lee had been a God-fearing pacifist, he now became determined to fight to hold on to what was his. He didn't resent this change in attitude. Indeed he embraced it as necessary to properly care and provide for his family in a country still rebuilding after four years of strife.

Winston took another swallow from the bottle of whiskey and once more handed it over to Ehron Lee, who considered before accepting the bottle and taking a short drink. Again he wore a sour face as the liquor burned a trail down his throat.

“You know what else I used to ponder?” Ehron Lee went on, wiping whiskey residue from his lips. “I wondered if Melinda would even be waitin' for me if I got back. Though she ain't never said so, hadda be hard on her, not knowin' any more'n I did. Each day maybe waitin' to hear if . . .” His voice drifted off and he sat quietly for a moment.

Winston puffed patiently on his cigar.

“Wondered a lot about that,” Ehron Lee resumed with a deep sigh. “Girl so young, just married, facin' the prospect of bein' alone. A widow. Or maybe seein' me comin' back half a man. That's why when I came home and saw that she was the same gal I'd left behind . . . that nothin' had changed, I made myself a promise that, no matter what, I was gonna build a good life for her.”

Winston said, “Well, Ehron Lee, I've knowed Melinda longer'n you . . . and I can tell yuh, you have given her a fine life. She's as happy as I ever seen her.”

Ehron Lee appreciated hearing Winston tell him that, and he responded by giving his brother-in-law an affectionate clap on the shoulder. At the same time his introspective mood lifted. He'd spoken his thoughts and felt better for it. He folded his arms behind his neck, leaned back against the graying stump of a dead tree, and suddenly looked to Winston as contented as he had ever seen him.

“Yep, she's a right fine gal, Ehron Lee,” Winston acknowledged. He was finished with his cigar and flicked it into the campfire.

Ehron Lee breathed out, smiled, and nodded.

“Can see yuh someday buildin' a nice ranch on that land,” Winston rhapsodized. “Maybe raisin' some cattle . . .”

Ehron Lee gave his head a slow but deliberate shake. “Ain't thinkin'
that
ambitious, Winston,” he replied. “Just a nice quiet farm to work on.”

Winston regarded his brother-in-law with a puzzled expression before he said, “Can't rightly picture you makin' a career outta bein' a sodbuster.”

Ehron Lee smiled at him. “And I can't think of any life more appealin'. Reckon I got you to thank for that.”

Winston gave him a questioning look.

“Gettin' me to do most of the chores 'round the farm, yuh lazy bastard,” Ehron Lee clarified with a teasing half grin. “Found I kinda took to workin' on the land.”

Winston didn't take offense at the remark. He knew it to be true. He considered for a moment, shrugged to himself, then raised the bottle in another salute and drank what was left. He threw the bottle off into the darkness. They both heard it land with a soft thump somewhere in the distance.

The campfire was burning low. Ehron Lee rose and scooped up some of the dry deadwood they'd been picking up along the trail. He stepped over to the fire, lowered to his haunches, and slowly and methodically tossed the pieces of wood into the flames, watching as the fire sparked and popped, and feeling the caressing warmth against his face.

Walking back over to Winston, Ehron Lee sighed as he massaged the back of his wrist over his growth of beard. “First thing I'm gonna do when I get back is shave off these whiskers . . . then settle myself in a long bath.”

“A bath!” Winston exclaimed, as he was a man not particularly concerned about his own cleanliness. “Yuh talk like you been away a month.”

“Feels like it,” Ehron Lee said, his thoughts focused on how much he missed his wife.

“Well, I'll tell yuh,” Winston said. “You think 'bout your bath and I'll content myself with the fine meal the gals'll have prepared for us.” He rolled his hand over his massive belly in anticipation.

“S'pose you've been thinkin' of nothin' else?” Ehron Lee teased him.

“You suppose right,” Winston admitted freely.

Ehron Lee said, “Well, what say I help yuh get your mind off your appetite? How 'bout some music?”

Winston was a simple man not possessed of many abilities. But he did have one talent—he could play the mouth organ—and it was a skill appreciated by Ehron Lee.

“Sure,” Winston agreed. He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew the instrument. “Anythin' particular?”

Ehron Lee's mouth curved in a slow smile and he gave him a wink. “Think you know.”

Winston nodded and he readied his lips with some puckering and then blew out the chords of a gentle harmony. Ehron Lee instantly recognized the tune: “Barbara Allen,” a particular favorite of his and Melinda's. The song they had danced to at their wedding. Hearing the song now, he felt momentarily wistful but, in a way, that much nearer to his wife.

He gently sang the opening lyrics: “In Scarlet Town, where I was born, there was a fair maid dwellin', made every youth cry well-a-day, her name was Barbara Allen.” He softly hummed along with the rest of the song while his thoughts took him back to a specific time not so very long ago . . .

* * *

He recalled the day when he was working alone in the field, enjoying the warmth of the midafternoon summer sunshine and even the clean, honest sweat from his labor. Melinda had joined Winston and Abigail when they rode into town to pick up some groceries and a few supplies from the mercantile. Ehron Lee remembered there was something else, too: a strange little mystery that Melinda had been trying to keep secret from him. A surprise she promised to reveal once she came back from town. In the days before, he'd occasionally catch her throwing him a sly, sideways glance and then quickly turning away when he met her eye. He suspected Winston and Abigail had been let in on her secret but likewise were close-mouthed.

He had almost finished his work that afternoon, leading the mule-drawn plow across the small stretch of soil, when he heard a familiar call, traveling at him on the still prairie air. He hastened to turn at the sound.

She came running through the field toward him, excitedly calling his name, arms outstretched in anticipation of an embrace. The moment would always stay with Ehron Lee, for framed forever in time was the vision of Melinda rushing through the tall grass and between the cottonwoods that bordered the field—her long honey-colored hair tied in a ribbon but flowing out behind her as she ran, fair-complexioned skin, the soft pink rosiness of her cheeks, sensitive puckered lips, and cornflower blue eyes so bright and lively he swore he could see them clearly from where he stood.

Ehron Lee's heart beat a little faster, as it always seemed to do when he was in her presence. He dropped the reins, drew a breath, and started toward her, whipping off the battered old hat he was wearing and wiping the perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand.

When Melinda reached him, she threw her arms around his shoulders, embracing him tightly while she kissed him full on the mouth. Ehron Lee immediately responded by encircling her petite waist with his strong arms. He just barely repressed himself from expressing his foremost thought:
My God, you're beautiful.

“Can't say I disapprove of the greeting,” he said once their lips parted. “But that's some hello, considerin' you've only been gone for a coupla hours.”

Melinda gazed up at him, her eyes smiling as brightly as the curvature on her lips. Still, it took a while for her to speak what was on her mind. What she seemed so excited about. Ehron Lee was patient, though inwardly he was bursting at the seams to hear what she had to say.

Finally she said, “I been wantin' to tell you for the longest time but just hadda be sure.”

Now Ehron Lee looked a little perplexed. A bit concerned, in fact.

Melinda inhaled a deep breath that she released with emphasis.

“Went to see the doctor,” she said. “He told me . . . well, he said it ain't just gonna be the two of us much longer.”

Ehron Lee felt momentarily numb as he wasn't sure he was hearing correctly. Maybe, he reckoned, he'd been out in the sun too long. His expression went comically blank. He began to wipe the palms of his hands against his jeans in an unconscious gesture.

Gradually what his wife was telling him began to sink in, though he was unsure of what to say.

He fumbled with his words and his hands made a vague gesture. “Why, you—you ain't even showin' yet. Shouldn't there be . . . I mean, shouldn't your belly . . .”

Melinda giggled at his awkwardness. “It's still early.”

Ehron Lee coughed self-consciously. He felt a little foolish at his naïveté.

“Guess I ain't had much experience with babies and all,” he tried to explain.

“Well, don't you worry none,
Daddy
,” Melinda said as she tenderly kissed his cheek. “You'll be gettin' plenty of practice.”

“Reckon,” was all Ehron Lee could manage.

But then, suddenly overwhelmed, he stepped back, planted his closed fists firmly against his hips, breathed out heavily, and exclaimed, “Damn, you're just too young to be a ma!”

Catching Melinda's quick look of surprise, he grinned at her reassuringly.

Relieved that he was just being playful, Melinda sighed as she gazed into her husband's eyes.

“Just tell me you're happy, Ehron Lee, that's all I want to hear,” she urged sweetly.

Ehron Lee took his wife into his arms and pulled her close. “Happy? How could I feel otherwise?”

They kissed again, a lingering, passionate kiss that solidified the love between them and the love both would soon share with their child. Then, with their arms wrapped tightly around each other, Ehron Lee and Melinda walked through the gold-spilled sunshine across the field back toward the house, preparing for yet another new beginning in their life together . . .

* * *

Winston finished playing the song. He glanced over at his brother-in-law and saw him sitting with a faraway look on his face. Winston nodded knowingly and put the mouth organ back into his shirt pocket. Both men settled into silence, gazing up into the sky, each relaxing with his thoughts on this peaceful night. From somewhere off in the distance they heard a lone coyote bark.

There was a brief moment of unnatural stillness, followed by a sudden agitation of the two horses tethered near the edge of their camp—and then a quick rustling from somewhere in the surrounding brush. Before Ehron Lee or Winston could fully comprehend what was happening—or react to it—two men emerged from behind them, moving swiftly to either side of the pair. One was brandishing a Henry .44 rifle, the other an eight-gauge shotgun, both leveled in their direction.

Though Ehron Lee briefly considered the move, there was no point in attempting to reach for the holstered Colt revolver, which was lying close to where he was sitting. He would never have had a chance.

The two men who had come upon them were dirty and unshaven. Big men—muscular, not fat. Even without them brandishing weapons, their appearance suggested trouble. Both wore wide-brimmed Stetsons that shadowed much of their faces.

The man holding the Henry was dressed in dusty, well-worn buckskins, looking as if he'd spent several months roughing it in the wilderness. He was the first to speak.

“Whyn't yuh toss your gun belt over this way—slow and easy,” he said.

Ehron Lee looked hard at the man, saw the intent in his eyes, and did as instructed, trying to keep the trembling from his fingers. He felt both apprehensive and angered.

“Where's yours?” Buckskins asked Winston.

Winston jerked his head over to where his horse was standing. His gun belt was slung over his saddle, next to his saddlebag.

Buckskins nodded. “That's fine. We can jus' leave it there.”

“We don't want no trouble,” Winston said in as steady a voice as he could manage.

“Don't plan to give yuh none—if'n you cooperate,” Buckskins said as he flung Ehron Lee's gun belt over his shoulder. “Just wanta trade off our horses. Yeah, and those two of yours'll do jus' fine.” He spoke to his companion. “Todd, bring our ponies 'round. I'll keep an eye on these . . . gentlemen.”

The man named Todd chuckled from his throat then walked off until he was consumed whole in the darkness, though his heavy footfalls echoed behind him. Buckskins moved in to face both Ehron Lee and Winston.

“You got nothin' to worry 'bout,” he said. “We're givin' yuh a fair exchange.”

Neither Ehron Lee nor Winston spoke. Instead they looked at each other warily.

Soon Todd came back into the light of the campfire leading two unsaddled, though sturdy-looking bay stallions.

“Can't see nothin' wrong with your animals,” Winston said weakly, not hiding his nervousness very well.

“Ain't,” Buckskins agreed. “Jus' been ridin' 'em for a spell. Need some rest and waterin' . . . and we just ain't got the time.”

Buckskins walked carefully over to where his partner was standing, all the while keeping his rifle trained on the two men.

“You fellas play it smart and stay put for a bit, huh?”