Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (44 page)

Six mounted, also white - Irish, Scots, who were armed and ready to go. Each of them, directing hard cold glares their way.

Broc turned to them, “I hired on more,” He sniffed from the cold, informing them, “They gonna protect all that I’m doin’, makin’ sure – no one pulls anythin’.” He went on, stepping off the boardwalk to his horse, “Greed is a dangerous thing, makes a man do stupid things.” He stated in general while mounting Nik-Nik. “Let’s go, times wastin’.”

Subsequently, the four gulped, trying to hide their discomfort. Faces turning red, they had no choice but to do as they were told. Each of them feeling heat build and swarm within, wracking their nervous systems.

They knew that Pierre was there at the building site. He would be waiting for them, and if that were not enough, he spoke of eliminating a few in the night. Surrounded as they were by the new men, with Broc present, they rode realizing there was nothing they could do. If they suddenly ran off, what would he, Broc do?

What would the other men do? The warning was clear in Broc’s words. Despite the cold, the four were sweating – afraid, wondering if they were riding into a trap – riding to their death. 

Broc sat taller in his saddle, hoping and praying that God was on his side.

He thought about his Irish grandfather, who had been a slave, who had run from his enslavement instead of selling his soul by taking up with those who in truth - despised them all. His grandfather had drilled into him something that he was never to forget.

‘Fight fo’ right – not wrong. Stan’ fo’ wrong, you block yo’ way to God – an’ his blessin’ too. Yo’ guts tell you, this ain’t right – don’t you do it, don’t.’ 
As far as he could see, by following his gut and fighting for right, it landed him Asiza and all the good things he had gained so far. He wasn’t stupid, he understood his part in it all - just as his grandfather had said, God had already done his part by providing all that we needed – right in and on the earth. The rest was up to those who considered themselves his children. He had given all there was to give, the rest would come by working for it. No one appreciated getting something for nothing.

By the sweat of one’s brow, by sacrifice and even some tears, those doing right would gain the delicious fruits of their hard labor.

Broc saw ways in which to gain for himself, for his own. As a man, he took his role serious in building his clan. Asiza was the chosen mother of his potential clan. At all cost she would be protected, or how else did he expect to procreate those of his making?

Yes, he would try to do what was right, but when it came to dealing with those trying to do wrong by him – his actions would be to handle them by
full
measure. With all the possible problems life and the devil laid as traps to come, he wasn’t about to leave today’s to pop up again down the road. With a bit of prayer, deep thinking, he
knew
what he had to do.

As for the business side of things, he also had to get Rory stationed at Clover Grove – which was the reason he wasn’t returning with him now. His father and brother were preparing him for his place there.

They were working together to gather manpower for their new positions in Virginia. This also meant that Broc would have to leave and travel there to get things set up. Having the six new men with him, meant he would not have to leave Boaz without backup. All of it had to be worked out and quickly. He needed to get to Virginia in record time, but first, there was a need for supplies.

While arranging things in his mind, a sudden and brilliant idea came to him concerning the four he hired. He chuckled to himself as the small pack made their way to his land.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Riding back to his land, the eleven rode mostly in silence except for a few words back and forth between the six who were well acquainted. Broc’s mind was occupied with basking in the glory of his good fortune. He owned a vast parcel of land now, and had every intention of adding to it in Virginia as well. Land, owning it, building on it, holding it and passing it on – was more valuable than anything else a man might obtain.

A rule that he would establish hard and fast with his wife and their children. No land of theirs was ever to be sold to anyone, for any reason. He couldn’t help but think about his grandfather again and the stories he told of the elite taking their land off of them. A move that forced them to be slaves to them – without land to work, to grow food on, to hunt on – one became reliant upon the state. Everywhere they, the elite went, they took the land from the people, so the people would become slaves to them, having no means any longer to survive without the land. The
Land enclosure act
– started in England and spread outward everywhere.

‘Never again… never again.’
  Went through his mind - no, no child of his, no matter what color they might be, would be a slave waiting for a handout, or a beating, or raping. To be degraded, spit upon, called all vile names under the sun – cast aside where upon
their
land –
wealth is grown
, but
never
fairly given, or
shared back to them –
the
original
owners of the land. “No… never again!” he declared to the cold winds blowing around them. Inhaling strong and deep, he smiled. He owed much to his grandfather. When he was done – he would not seek out the sire that left him, no – he would gather his grandfather and family who were there for him – and bring them onto their land.

Resolute, Broc smiled once more.

There is nothing quite like the beauty that a blanket of white snow gives to the towering forest, the sweeping peaks, valleys and landscapes spread far and wide.

What made the pristine white even more startling was when they came in view of the camp and caught sight of the contrasting, shocking -
red
.

Blood – a heart stopping sign of something gone wrong. The ugliness of it standing out so clearly, brought the eleven to a silent halt.

In the distance, they could see the brand new barn standing tall and large, smoke rising from the chimney they’d built within it. Stacks upon stacks of neatly arranged lumber, fallen logs and a large heat tent situated a distance from the barn. It stood to give the men a place to go into to warm up. In the midst of it all, random dirty foot prints marked the workers’ busy activities – along with prints from oxen and horses.

What did not belong – was the blood – off towards the wooded area and coming out - so much of it that it made them catch their breaths. Immediately Broc snapped Nik-Nik’s reigns to race down into the open valley toward the grizzly sight.

A bell was being clanged to alert the workers of Broc’s return.

Boaz was there to meet him, all he could get out before Broc lept from his saddle was, “He kill my brotha’! He kill Willard!”

“Who?” Broc exclaimed immediately.

“That… that – that white man, the Frenchy - Pierre!”

Broc stood a moment as his adrenaline rose to an all-time high, he turned blazing eyes to the hired four, asking Boaz, “He get away?”

“Angelo got’im.”

The four squirmed, reddened, fear was palpable.

Broc turned back to Boaz, “Got who?”

“Pierre – he seen’im grab Will – he – he slit his…” Boaz was overcome with grief.

Broc turned, looking directly at the hired four, “Get your horses in, warm up, eat and get to work, we’ll be talkin’ later.”

He turned back to Boaz, calming him. Broc and Manny’s six that arrived with him took the discussion into the warm barn then into the main cook tent.

Settling in, warming up, Broc encouraged Angelo to tell them about Willard and Pierre.

It was apparent that Willard was caught unaware, and Angelo came upon Pierre right after he’d killed Willard. He in turn attacked Pierre, and in the fight, was slightly wounded, but in the end, he killed Pierre.  The rest of the camp was alerted by his and Pierre’s shouting which made them rush in on the scene. 

As for Boaz, he was broken up over the incident – he and his brother were close.

Broc tried to console him and advised that he go off for a while.

He promised that his brother would have a proper burial and made plans to include a graveyard within the community they were constructing.

Broc asked Ward, -(a Scot)- to accompany Boaz so that he not be traveling alone and could go to town to do as he needed to help cope with his brother’s death, hinting that he might wish to visit Ms. Della.

The hint was unnecessary - she was exactly where Boaz wished to go. The men’s arrival at the boarding house was quite the stir. For one, they were invited to stay on a few days – so that Boaz could meet Mr. Anderson, Ms. Della’s father. For two, Ward, the Scot – could not take his eyes off of Nettie, a fancy from Clover Grove. The Scot, Ward, could not remember a time in his life, where the sight of a woman, made him forget his way. So much so, he was contemplating staying on with Broc and his building project– which was starting to take on the look of a new community.

As for the four… the following day they sat in four chairs brought forward, side by side – each of them sweating – eyes wide in fear. Before them, standing ominous and dangerous, their boss, Broc. Around the room, five of the new six stood along with Angelo and Fidel. Having been a bounty hunter for so long, knowing the ways of criminals and the greedy – Broc knew how to crack them, make them tell on themselves. He knew the perfect formula, it had worked in the past, he saw no reason for it not to work that day. Thanks to Boaz, Broc knew that Fred and Harry, both English, had come first to his camp to be hired, the next day - Ivan and Bruce, one German, the other French had arrived.

Broc picked up a small purse with gold coins in it from the table and tossed it to Bruce saying as the man caught it, “You’re a smart man - you can stand with me now, and know, that is just the beginning.”

The other three’s eyes almost popped from their heads, and before they could think, the idea of betrayal exploded, making Harry the fastest to speak and attack Bruce, “You
BASTARD!
” The three were all over him, cursing, spitting on him, beating him. A blade or two came out.

Broc and his men stood back and let their actions follow through - neither of them stepped forward to stop it. To defend himself, Bruce stabbed Harry in the neck killing him, while Ivan and Fred did him in.

Two lay dead in a bloody heap by the time Ivan’s and Fred’s exhaustion stopped them, forcing them to gulp for their next breaths. Both men were covered in blood, their eyes turned to see Broc with a loaded pistol in hand, pointed at them.

“You two, gone hang for murder.” Both men shivered from the cold and deadly look in his eyes.

Supporting Boaz, Ms. Della, Asiza and Asa were there at his brother’s burial. Supporting Ms. Della, a few of the other single women from her boarding house attended as well.

January came cold and blistering. Boaz suggested they build as much as they could of the walls inside the barn not to waste time. Broc agreed with him. Boaz was a leader among the men, none worked as hard as he did. Broc knew making him foremen had been the right thing to do. He led the way, laboring early dawn to dusk, seeing to it that they all did as much as possible. On pleasant days, they took it outside, getting hearths built to construct homes around.

Boaz was unstoppable. Broc could see that his heart and soul was into this build – he’d staked a claim in it by the sweat of his brow. Those eighty acres Broc had given him would be well and truly paid for by the time all was done.

Weeks went by with Broc disappearing every seven or eight days – mainly on Saturday nights. It wasn’t long before they all knew where to and why. He would ride to Ramsey Manor, procure that chalet and then fetch his wife there for the night.

Sunday morning, he began attending church services with her and Asa - Della, Boaz and her father. He would then take her and Asa back to the boarding house, kissing them goodbye to head back to his building work.

January and February – he made it a regular routine to spend Saturday night with his wife, and Sunday with his family and the Lord. From there, it grew into him and Boaz spending Sunday there to have dinner with them at the doctor, Della’s father’s home.

Their lives and the routine of it grew together.

March - Manny arrived with more help for him - his son Mike. Due to the bonding after the bar brawl, Mike felt compelled to assist Broc. Besides that, the family had grown to know Broc well with him showing up every Saturday afternoon.

Now, it was time to move to the next phase of his plans. Mike agreed with his mother, constantly drinking and fighting wasn’t helping, he needed to be busy instead of being trapped in the nightmare of losing his Maria. There were other ways of coping with his horror, and so he joined the other men in the continuous building during Broc’s absence. His presence along with the six placed there, provided protection and aid to those diligently working. This freed Broc up to take Rory, and the new gathered manpower to Virginia. Manny would see to their transport on one of his steamers, assuring that they make it there in record time.