Sharon Poppen (31 page)

“Ma’am,” began Tim. “We probably need to get moving. Coyotes don’t scare me none, normally. But we’re on foot and the only weapon we got is my pocketknife. Also, I think maybe we’ll be getting a chill cause we ain’t ‘xactly dressed for nighttime desert air.”

Hannah smiled. “Yes, you’re right. We should get moving, but I’ve got a feeling that your pa is probably trying to find us right now.”

“I ‘spect you’re right. Still, we better get moving.”

Hannah walked over to Drake’s body. She used her foot to nudge the head of the horse aside. Drake’s face came into view. The moonlight allowed her to see his dying expression. It was obvious he had suffered.

“Ma’am, we need to …”

“Just a moment, Tim. I need to be alone.” She turned to the boy. “Please?”

Tim nodded. “I’ll just mosey along kinda slow. Call to me when you’re ready and I’ll wait up for ya.”

“Thank you.” She watched the boy head back toward what she hoped was town. She turned her attention back to Drake. She’d been denied the opportunity to kill him. For over a year, it had been her passion, her need, her focus, her drive, a force so strong that she’d risked everything to do more than bring him to justice. She needed to kill him. She’d sworn to herself and to Caleb that she’d kill him for what he’d done. She’d meant it. Then why did she feel nothing?

Hannah had no desire to kick him, to spit on him, to tear his heart out with her bare hands, to debase his body in any way as she had in countless nightmares. She felt no revenge as she looked down at the contorted face. She felt no hate. She felt no regret that she had not killed him. She felt nothing. It was if his death had brought the earth back into its realm of beauty and was offering her an invitation to enjoy its bounty.

She looked up at the moon, and then turned in a complete circle taking in the shadowy rises and falls that surrounded her with possibilities. She took a deep breath as she looked up at the moon again. All her poisons were gone and the sweet sense of hope, of love raced through her being and settled into her heart.

She smiled and said one word. “Liam.” She turned and hurried after Tim.

*****

Liam reined his horse. “Hear that?” he called over to Daniel.

“Sounds like it came from up ahead, but I don’t see anything.”

Cooper joined in. “Out here on the plains, a sound can travel a long ways with no greenery to muffle it. Best keep moving. But with all this moonlight, we need to stay alert. Need to keep the sound of our horses down.”

“He’s right Liam. No more galloping.”

“We can’t slow down. Not now.”

“Liam. Cooper’s right. We need the element of surprise. You saw how he controlled Hannah and Tim. We can’t risk forcing Drake into doing something desperate, something deadly.”

They were right and Liam knew it, but it took every bit of his self-control to adhere to their advice.

It wasn’t long before they came to a rocky decline in the terrain. They eased their mounts down an easy seven or eight foot loose-gravel grade and continued south in a slow canter.

“I see something,” Cooper whispered.

The men drew the horses to a stop. The brother’s squinted ahead.

“Where?” asked Daniel.

“Straight ahead. Something’s moving. It’s low to the ground.”

Liam was about to disagree, and then he noticed something, too. There was definitely movement. A chorus of coyote howls seemed to identify what they were seeing.

“Coyotes,” said Daniel.

“No,” said Cooper. “Coyotes are yonder to the west. What I’m seeing is due south.”

“He’s right, Daniel.” He heard a call. It was so far away, he almost missed it.

“Liam!” Its eeriness brought fleeting pictures of sirens or mermaids. Then it came louder and rang with hope. “Liam!”

His heels dug into the horse as he raced toward the sound. He could see two figures in the distance. They were on foot. He dismounted and ignoring his complaining arm he began to run. The moonlight spotlighted her long strides and her wild tresses streaming back and bouncing about her shoulders as she ran.

They stopped within two feet of each other. The moon reflected in her eyes as she reached out for his hands. Once their fingers were entwined, she smiled up at him and without a doubt, without a skeleton, without hesitation she uttered two words.

“I do!”

*****

Two weeks later, under a flowery arbor in Aunt Emiliana’s yard, she said those words to Liam, again. He had just said them to her. They kissed as the preacher pronounced them “man and wife.”

The yard was full of well-wishers. The couple was amazed at all the folks who’d managed to come on such short notice, even Ruby from Nacogdoches had come. She and Sadie from Blanco were renewing an old friendship.

The Jacksons brought little Jessica who had just started walking and was looking more and more like Caroline every day.

Zach and Martha cornered the preacher and were setting up a wedding date of their own, while Janey began planning the whole affair.

The Cooper’s had come and once they’d arrived Daniel took one look at Cassie and hadn’t quit monopolizing her time. When Hannah kissed Tim’s cheek and said thank you, she smiled at his adoring blush.

Eventually, Liam had managed to get Daniel, Frank and Hannah to sneak off to the barn for a quiet little toast in memory of their meeting after the storm.

“I can’t even imagine where I’d be if you three hadn’t come along.” Hannah bussed Daniel and Frank’s cheeks.

“Well,” said Frank, “I gotta tell you, that grass you were munching on when we found you did look pretty tasty.”

Hannah rubbed her stomach in memory of the retching. “Goodness, it was awful!” She turned to Daniel. “And what would I have done without your extra pair of boots!”

Daniel smiled smugly. “I knew they’d come in handy.”

She touched the arm of each new brother-in-law and raised her glass of wine. “Thank you.”

They nodded and everyone drank their wine.

Daniel set his down. “Well, I need to …”

Liam put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Yes, we know Cassie is waiting.”

As Daniel left, Frank said he needed to get back to talk with Sheriff Butler about some late night robberies that were plaguing some of the town merchants.

“Burglaries?” Hannah’s eyes lit up.

Liam sighed.

“Did I say burglaries? No, no. Not in San Antonio.” Frank backed out the door while uttering, “Not to worry, Hannah.”

“Burglaries?” Hannah looked up at Liam. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Nope. Not a thing.” He pulled her into his arms.

“Are you sure? What merchants? Are they losing lots of goods and money? Does the sheriff think it’s local –

Liam’s lips interrupted her litany of questions.

“But if the townsfolk need –

“I need.” Liam kissed her again as he led her toward the ladder to the hayloft.

“You need what?” Hannah smiled.

“I’m hungry.” He grinned as he urged her up the ladder.

“Again?” she teased.

He pulled her down beside him in the straw. “Once, you told me I had the biggest appetite you’d ever seen.”

“Yes…”

“And I told you that you had no idea how big.”

“I remember.” She came into his arms. “Now, show me.”

THE END

AUTHOR’S BIO:
Sharon Poppen (
www.sharonpoppen.com
)

Resides in Lake Havasu City, Arizona. She has won awards from Arizona Authors Assoc. and National League of American Pen Women. Her western novels
After the War, Before the Peace, Hannah, Abby-Finding More Than Gold
and
her sci/fi novel
Regardless
are available at Amazon Books, most web based book sellers and from her website.  Her work has appeared in such publications as
A Flasher’s Dozen, Desert Treasures, Skive, Offerings from the Oasis, A Long Story Short,
Apollo Lyre
and
Laughter Loaf
.  Her workshops on Journaling, Short Story Writing, Novel Writing and Blogging bring rave reviews.

After the War, Before the Peace
- Historical/Western/Romance

Hannah
– Historical/Western/Romance

Abby-Finding More Than Gold
– Historical/Western/Romance

Regardless
– Gay/Sci-Fi

For your enjoyment,

here’s the first chapter of

Sharon Poppen’s

novel

After the War, Before the Peace

After The War, Before The Peace

Chapter One

From There to Here

The trio rode along in silence, two of them were glad this last foray was over. They were tired. They would be relieved to see the lights of Ciudad Acuna. Soon they could rest their bone weary bodies and more importantly their minds. Stray pebbles dislodged by the horses would not alert their senses. The scurrying of the night critters would not draw their attention. Tonight, they would sleep soundly.

Michael, the youngest of the three brothers, was surprised to find that one could be so tired and remain upright in the saddle. His six-foot-two frame ached from shoulders to ankles. His fingers scratched his sand-crusted scalp. His face was gritty from the windblown ride across the desert terrain, but his eyes were alert and his mind was racing. He was trying to etch each nuance of this experience into his mind in exact detail in case it had all been just a dream. No, this couldn't be a dream; his body ached too much.

Only a month ago he’d been working the ranch in Missouri, going to church on Sunday and, while not totally unaware of what his brothers faced every day, had no accurate picture of the risk they lived with on a daily basis. Now, he was questioning his decision to join them. They had left it up to him. Should he have stayed in Boonesboro? Judging by his experiences of the past month, common sense would say yes. But, he knew it had been his duty to go. He would have gone even if he had known in advance about everything he’d seen and learned this past month. Jim and Joe had spent their lives trying to make things right. Michael knew there was really no choice; he was a Farrell.

Michael looked at the shadows of his brothers riding just ahead of him. They had always been a little mysterious to him as he was growing up, his heroes. Now, he was riding with them. He looked at Jim's shadow. Michael was as tall as this oldest of his three brothers, even though Jim had ten years on Michael's eighteen. In fact, they looked a lot alike. They both had that long, lean look with light brown hair and big brown eyes. Although, Jim’s hair was already streaked with errant gray strands and he sported a full mustache. He was a quiet man, much like Michael. Yes, Michael thought, Jim and he were a lot alike.

His thoughts turned to Joe. Joe was the shortest of the four brothers, only five feet nine inches tall. He was the Irishman of the family with his smiling blue eyes, curly black hair and dark mustache. He looked most like Ma. Always happy, he laughed at life, himself and others, but not with a mean spirit just a genuine enjoyment of whatever life dealt him. He always seemed to do more of everything. He was always the first to offer help when needed. He was the last to tire out at any activity, be it a chore or a pleasure. His needs were easily satisfied with smooth whiskey, a good cigar and pretty girls. Always an eye attuned to pretty girls, but still a bachelor at 26.

Joe broke into Michael's thoughts. "There it is. Let’s go!” His brothers broke into a gallop.

They slowed down as they came to the edge of a small town, if it could be called a town. All Michael could see were some dwellings alongside a river, although he could hear and smell the main street quite clearly. Loud music, loud voices and laughter echoed across the desert floor. As they passed the end of the noisy street, the smell of sweaty horseflesh along with the stench of rank sewage assaulted his nostrils.

His brothers led him along a darker, quieter path one street over. The houses were shuttered and showed no signs of life. They rode for about three blocks before pulling up in front of what looked like a barn or stable.

Joe dismounted and opened a rickety door to the glow of a lantern,

A voice called out, “Quien alli?”

"Jose Farrell.” Joe answered.

A boy of about fourteen came forward. "Ah, Senors!  Buenos Noches. Is good to see you."

"Hermano, it's good to be back. Will you take care of the horses?"

    
              "Si, senor."

    
              "We'll see you in the morning".

     
              Jim had already dismounted. He and Joe pulled their guns and saddlebags from the horses before handing the reins over to the boy. Michael slid to the ground and copied the actions of his brothers. Hermano led the horses into the barn and closed the door. The street was again pitch. Michael could barely make out the forms of his brothers standing beside him.

"I'm too tired to eat. I'm going to bed." Jim yawned.

Joe made an attempt to josh his brother. "Jim, I think you're getting old.” He laughed, then admitted, “Ah, but then again, maybe I am too. ‘Cause I'm all for lying down on a bed for a change and resting these aching bones.”

Michael caught his breath and recoiled at feeling a sharp poke to his rib cage.

Joe laughed.

“Jeez, Joe. You scared the hell out of me. I can’t see a thing.”

“What about it, Mike?” Joe asked. “You ready for bed?"

Michael’s senses were reeling with curiosity about the strange sights and sounds. He really wanted to check out the noise and music on that other street. His mind was too alert for sleeping, but there was no way he was going to do anything in this strange little town by himself.

"Guess I could use some rest. Where do we go?"

"Just a little ways up the street.”  Jim answered.

"What's all that noise back there?”

"A place you want to stay away from.” Jim advised.

Joe laughed. “Yeah, as if he doesn’t know about such things.” He threw his arm around Michael’s shoulder and continued. “Little brother, that's the place the preachers say will lead you to the devil. But, I've found that the devil sure knows where to go to have a good time. Yes siree!"

"Don't be telling him stuff like that. He'll find out what it's all about soon enough."

"What? Come on, what's it like? A real saloon with women?” Michael could hardly keep his voice low. He and Danny, his younger brother, had shared imaginations of what saloons with wild women, meaning sex to their virgin loins, would be like. The thought that he was so close and yet not be able see it brought on an unspoken
Damn
.

"This is a border town. It's mostly saloons and floozies." Jim grunted.

"And what floozies!" Joe added and started to whistle a tune.

"Quiet!  The good people of this town are trying to sleep."

Joe hushed and they proceeded in silence until they came to a small dark building. Jim unlocked the padlocked door and went in with Joe and Michael following right behind. Michael waited while his brothers fumbled around, lighting a lantern.

In the flickering yellow light, Michael scanned the small room. It was oblong with an earthen floor of pounded red clay. At one end was a fireplace, a small table with a couple of chairs and some shelving containing cooking and eating utensils. There was another room just off the kitchen area. Joe had carried a lantern into the room where Michael could see two single beds.  Both looked to be freshly made up. It wasn't home, but it was clean and looked livable. Michael became aware that his brothers were looking at him.

"You okay?” Jim eyed his younger brother carefully.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I always wondered how you lived? You said you had a place. But because you wouldn't say where, none of us were really sure what you did or how you lived. Ma and Nora would feel much better if they could see this."

"I know. But the less they know about how and where we live, the safer it is for them and us."

"You've been away for three months. How come everything looks so clean?"

“There's a woman here, Senora Rodriguez, who looks after it for us. She knows we'll be back in approximately three months so she makes sure everything is clean and stocked. Look.” Jim walked to the food shelves. “See, fresh flour, rice, beans and coffee. We pay her to do it."

Joe added, "And as a bonus, her son Gilberto watches to see no one breaks in. Nice kid, about nine or ten. We'll take you to meet them tomorrow."

Jim nodded. "Right. But for now, we had all better get some shut-eye. I’m going to take a leak and hit the sack."

The three of them visited the small outhouse behind the cabin. Within minutes, the light was snuffed and Michael could hear the light snoring of his brothers. He lay in the darkness in his sleeping bag on the hard floor, trying to relax. His head was spinning. Could it only be a month since he'd left home!  The things he'd seen and done had been beyond his eighteen-year old imagination. Ma and Nora worried enough already. If they really knew, it would be too much for them. Thoughts of Ma and Nora brought his mind back three months to the day Jim and Joe arrived at the Boonesboro ranch.

*****

Michael had gone out before dark and left the two buckets of water for the horses hanging on a post on the far side of the corral. It was a signal for his brothers. Two buckets meant there was no one at the ranch looking for them, nor had they seen anyone skulking around watching the house. One bucket would have meant don't come in.

Michael had been asleep in the room he shared with his sixteen-year-old brother Dan and Jim’s eight-year-old son Patrick. They hadn't heard a thing. It was only when he woke up in the morning and saw Joe sleeping on the bunk below Patrick that he discovered his brothers were home. He knew Jim would be down the hall with his wife Nora.

It was always a relief to have them home. Michael and Danny didn't know for sure what they did while they were away, but they knew it was dangerous. They never, for the breath of a moment, believed that their brothers were the dangerous outlaws some lawmen were looking for.

They knew they were doing something about recouping the family losses incurred by the Civil War, a war that had ended over ten years ago. Michael and Danny hardly remembered it. They had only been eight and six when General Lee had surrendered to General Grant at Appomattox.

They vaguely remembered how beautiful the family plantation had been. Jim and Joe talked about the acres and acres covered with cotton, of the herd of cattle and the championship racehorses. Then, the war had come. The Farrells had tried to stay out of it, but eventually Pa, Jim and Joe, who was barely thirteen, had gone to fight for the confederacy. Michael thought about his mother, Elizabeth Deirdre Connelly Farrell. He smiled.  Thinking of her made him feel good; it always did. Over the years, he’d finally gotten the full story of those horrible years during and right after the war. What a woman his mother was!

Thirty-eight year old Elizabeth was a petite lady of grace and poise at the start of the war. Despite the birth of four healthy sons, and several miscarriages, the young wife and mother could still be mistaken for a Southern belle such was her beauty. She had been raised in privilege as the only daughter of a wealthy plantation owner. Her marriage to James Joseph Farrell gave her the title of Mistress of Farrell Oaks and a continued life of privilege. Farrell Oaks was a large plantation a few miles from the town of Summerville, South Carolina. The Irish ancestries of both the Connellys and the Farrells were firm advocates of the tenet that with privilege comes responsibility. Elizabeth, for her part, managed the books and looked to the health and welfare of the workers while James took care of the crops and livestock.

As a result, when the men went off to war, Elizabeth easily stepped up to the challenge of running the plantation. She had the help of Ahab, their overseer, who was a black, freedman. But, they were no match for the Yankee soldiers who came pillaging. Most of the black workers had been frightened and ran off. Ahab and his wife Mattie had stayed and tried to help Elizabeth keep the plantation intact. However, when Union troops usurped the main house she had been afraid for the safety of her two young sons. Ahab and Mattie managed to hide Elizabeth and the boys in one of the old slave cabins down along the river amid the cypress trees.  The soldiers had used the Farrell plantation house as their headquarters. Ahab and Mattie worked for the Yankee Captain and supplied food to Elizabeth.

When word that the war had ended at Appomattox, Elizabeth came out of hiding and went to the commanding officer. She asked that the house be returned to her. The Yankee captain asked if she was alone. Elizabeth was honest with him. Said she didn't know if her husband and two older sons had made it through alive. All she knew for sure was that she had two small sons. The commanding officer told her he had to think it over. He didn’t know how long his troops would be posted to the area. In the meantime, she and the boys could stay in one of the slave cabins.