Rose (30 page)

“They could have left it in Virginia.”

“I’m surprised you’re not off somewhere prospecting,” Rose said. “I never knew anyone with a worse case of gold fever.”

“Probably,” Silas said, getting to his feet. “I always did dream of striking it rich. It sure beats working for it one dollar at a time.”

“I won’t argue with you there, but about the only way to get rich quick is to take something that belongs to somebody else. I can’t imagine anyone who was brought up on the same principles as my husband doing something like that. You wouldn’t, would you?”

“Ma’am, a man never knows what he’ll do until he’s faced with the temptation. A half million dollars is a mighty powerful temptation. Now where did you say that boy was likely to be hiding? I don’t want to be looking behind every bush between here and the camp.”

“You’re most likely to find him along the creek,” Rose said.

She was relieved to see Silas go. She wasn’t afraid of him, but he worried her. A man with gold fever could be dangerous. And right now they didn’t need any more danger. She would mention it to George tonight. It probably wasn’t anything, but it was best to be on the safe side.

“King said he’d be happy to trade. He said he’d rather give them to us than have Cortina slaughter them for hides and tallow. The army is going after his raiders, but everybody knows it won’t do any good. They can’t go into Mexico after him.”

Jeff had gotten back from Corpus Christi the night before and had barely stopped talking since. Rose couldn’t remember seeing him so animated. She would have given a lot to know what had brought about the change and whether it was likely to last very long.

George did love her, deeply and truly—she was convinced of that now—but she didn’t want to put his loyalty to a test. The claims of his family were of much longer standing than her own.

“He said he’d take the steers to St. Louis next spring if we want. We’d have to take our chances on the trail, but they’re offering the best price we’ll ever find, maybe as much as thirty dollars. We could lose them, too. What with rustlers, stampedes, and Indians, it’s a fifty-fifty gamble. Or we can wait until next spring and sell to a buyer.”

“What do you think we ought to do?” George asked.

“Trail north with King. If anybody’s going to get through, he’s the man.”

“Where do we get the money to pay the men?”

“King will take the herd now. It would save him worrying about getting up with us next spring. He agreed to give us twelve dollars a head now and the rest when we sell.”

George was pleased with his brother. For the first time he’d been able to put aside his own troubles and concentrate on his job.

Jeff’s expression changed without warning. All of the bottled-up anger was there again. “There’s something else,” he said as he reached in his pocket. “Seems the sheriff in Austin has been holding this for some time. Took him a mighty long time to realize you were the George Randolph on this letter.”

George took the envelope. It had been opened. “You read it?” He wasn’t upset. Just curious.

“Part of it. I couldn’t finish it.”

That made George even more curious. The letter was from a Colonel Jonah Marsh.

“What does he want with us?”

“Read it yourself. Read it to all of them,” he said, gesturing to his brothers. “They’ll be happy to know our father is a real, honest-to-God hero.”

George was stupefied. There had to be some mistake. He opened the letter and started to read.

Dear Mr. Randolph,

I had meant to write you earlier, but the rigors of returning to civilian life have up until this time prevented me from having the time I felt necessary for this letter. For months I’ve felt a growing, urgent need to tell you and your family about the last months of your father’s life. He was a truly remarkable man. The Confederate cause owes much to his leadership and his bravery.

George looked at Jeff, unable to believe what he was reading.

“It gets worse.”

George didn’t know why he did it, but he handed the letter to Rose. She took it, unsure of what she was expected to do, then began to read.

I only knew your father briefly. He joined my regiment after the battle of Atlanta. Because of his age and experience, I immediately gave him a command. It was the best decision I ever made. He was like a father to those boys. There was no trouble too small for his
—

Rose broke off as Hen jumped up with a curse and slammed out of the room. She looked at the others, but only Zac met her gaze.

“Go on,” George said without looking up.

—too small for his attention. He was tireless in his efforts to weld them into a single-minded fighting unit.

We couldn’t do more than harass Sherman as he ripped the heart out of Georgia, but it wasn’t long before he and his men came to know your father by name. He gave them cause.

He was fearless. When he thought the danger was too great for the youngsters in his command, he went in himself. I can’t tell you of the wonders he achieved. He was intrepid. But while he had many great successes, it
was his valiant courage which finally brought about his death.

Rose paused. All the sons were aware their father had been killed, but she wasn’t sure they would want to hear about it in a letter. Only Zac showed any interest. Tyler’s face looked blank. George and Jeff’s expressions showed tightly controlled anger. She thought Monty would pop from the effort he was making to control himself. Feeling more unsure than ever, she continued.

Mine was a small unit. Sherman sent a large patrol against us hoping to finish us off so he could continue his march to the coast unhampered. They caught us by surprise. We needed a diversion to give us time to melt into the surrounding woods. Without warning, your father rode straight at the Union patrol, straight for their leaders. I’ve never seen anything like it. Firing with both hands, using every weapon he possessed, he knocked a half dozen men out of the saddle. Even though he rode into the teeth of their fire, he got so close the line broke before he got hit.

Our troops got away with no casualties. We sent a special detachment into the Union camp for his body. After what he had done, he had to be laid to rest by the men he died for.

Rose looked up, but she got no reaction. Monty got up from his seat and walked over to the window and looked out, but he didn’t say anything. She resumed reading.

He didn’t leave much beyond his pistols and uniform, but we’ve entrusted these to one of the men who means to head west when the fighting’s done. He will look you up in Texas. His name is Benton Wheeler.

“Salty!” Zac exclaimed happily.

He was in your father’s command, so he can tell you even better than I what a fine man he was. Know we all share your loss, but we realize our loss as friends and fellow soldiers can’t compare to the loss felt by his family. He was a credit to his name and his country, God rest his soul.

My blessings go with you and your family.

Sincerely,

Col. Jonah Marsh

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Monty cursed.

“Watch your tongue,” George said. “Rose is here.”

“I wouldn’t care if God himself was here, I’d still damn the bastard,” Monty said, his anger so great he could hardly remain still.

“That’s not the worst of it,” Jeff said. “They’re going to have a parade in his honor in Austin. They’re expecting all of us to be there.”

Monty emptied out his bag of curses. Rose marveled he could have learned so many this far from civilization.

“You’re not going, are you, George?” Monty asked.

George didn’t answer. He sat staring before him.

“I won’t go,” Jeff said. “I don’t care what they do. If any of us has to go, it’ll have to be you, George. You’re the oldest.”

George didn’t answer.

“A parade!” Monty said, furious. “You wouldn’t get Hen to go if you held a gun to his head. It’d serve them right if I went just to tell them what a weasel they were honoring.”

Rose knew that William Henry Randolph hadn’t been a good father. She couldn’t imagine what he had done to cause his sons to hate him so, but she felt that ignoring the parade would only make things worse.

“I know this is none of my business,” Rose said, afraid to speak but feeling she must, “but they’re honoring what your father did, not your father himself. I’m not trying to change anybody’s feelings about him, but wouldn’t it be better if you could put them aside long enough for the parade?”

George got to his feet. Rose had never seen such a pain-filled look in his eyes. She had always felt he had a shell which somehow protected him from the extremes of emotion.

But this was pain, deep and searing. Not bitter or angry like the twins. Not even belligerent like Jeff. He had been hurt where he was most vulnerable. Where he was still vulnerable.

“The boys can do what they want,” George said, still staring into space, his voice, dull, lifeless, “but I won’t be there.”

He turned and walked out of the kitchen.

“That takes care of that,” Monty said with a kind of grim satisfaction. “George is the only one who could have gotten us to go.”

“Did you get the ring?” George asked Jeff. He had followed Jeff into the bedroom.

“Yes,” Jeff replied. He dug in one of his pockets and handed George a small packet made from a piece of paper folded over many times. “He had it waiting. He said he knew you’d be back for it soon.”

George unfolded the paper until it yielded up its secret, a gold band set with a largè yèllow stone. He knew it was a topaz, but the names of stones were meaningless to him. Rose wanted it. That was all that mattered to him.

“Did you get enough from the sword to cover the cost?” George asked without removing his gaze from the ring.

“Yes. I could have gotten more, but I made him promise not to sell it for at least a year.”

“Why?”

“You’ll want it back. You may not want to remember the war, but you’ll want your sword. I figure by then we’ll have enough money to pay for it. And even if you don’t want it, your children will.”

George stared at his brother. He could hardly believe he was talking to Jeff.

“You want to know what’s brought about this change in
me,” Jeff said. He smiled, a self-conscious, humorless smile. He looked like a man who had come to accept, without any degree of enthusiasm, something he would never like. “I’ll never forgive you for marrying Rose any more than I’ll forgive life for taking my arm. It’s not a matter of wanting to or not. I just can’t. But you’re my family. With this thing,” he said, glancing down at his stump, “you’re all I’m ever likely to have. Besides, you’re the only people who look at me without making me feel like a freak. It does come in handy in closing a deal, however. It takes a hard man not to feel a little sorry for my having lost my arm for the cause.”

George felt a tremendous sense of relief.

“You’d make a sharp deal without depending on that arm. As for the sword, I don’t want it back. And there aren’t going to be any children to inherit it.”

“What the hell do you mean? Unless I’m badly mistaken, that woman is looking forward to a swarm of little bluecoats romping about the place.”

“You remember what our father was like. Do you seriously think I’d tempt fate to repeat itself?”

“For God’s sake, George, you’re nothing like Pa.”

“Maybe not, but that’s a chance I’m not willing to take.”

Rose sat for a long time over her coffee. It grew cold before, with a fatalistic sigh, she got to her feet. She knew George’s self-doubts were tied up with his father, but she didn’t know what to do about it. She didn’t know if she
could
do anything, not unless she could get him to talk more about it. She didn’t know when he would be ready, but from the look in his eyes, it wouldn’t be soon.

“He’s never said a word about me bringing back his father’s things,” Salty told her. “I was sure one of them would.”

“He will. He just needs more time.”

But as the days went by, she grew less hopeful. George had placed the colonel’s letter on a shelf where anyone in the room could see it. It seemed to exercise malevolent power on all the
brothers. Even Zac, who had no memory of his father and virtually none of his mother, was affected by it.

At last she couldn’t stand it any longer. She took the letter and put it in the bottom of one of her drawers.

The boys noticed its absence. Rose saw each one of them glance at the shelf as they came in, then pause a moment when they realized the letter wasn’t there. But the atmosphere improved almost immediately. It wasn’t long before they were in pretty good spirits.

The roundup was nearly complete. There had been no more trouble with the McClendons, and they would soon begin the drive to King’s ranch. They had secured their ranch, they would have their breeding stock, and they would have some money. They were on their way to establishing the Randolph ranch as a permanent and profitable business.

And they had done it together. None of them would say it, but Rose knew they were all proud of themselves.

“I think the ranch ought to have a distinctive brand,” she said one evening.

“We have a brand,” Jeff reminded her.

“And a name,” she added. “You don’t want people calling it the Randolph place, do you?”

George eyed her, a kind of expectant amusement in his eyes. It made her squirm, but she refused to back down.

“I agree,” Monty said, suddenly enthusiastic. “The running ‘S’ isn’t our brand. It came with the place.”

“What would you like?” George asked.

“It ought to be something distinctive, something people associate with us,” Jeff said.

“And something not easy to change into another brand,” Hen added.

“I can’t think of anything that satisfies all those requirements,” George said. Then he looked straight at Rose. “Do you have any ideas, boys?” But his eyes never left Rose.

“We could use—” Monty began before Hen elbowed him
in the ribs. “What the hell!” Monty exploded, rounding on his twin.