Chapter 10
Damp morning air met Lou's face with a whisper. On the porch, Jesse was curled up in a tight ball in his favorite spot on the swing. Lou scratched under his chin and behind his ears, and when she stopped, the cat jumped down and slid between her feet. By the time she had reached the bottom of the porch steps, he was already halfway to the chicken coop as if he were conversant with the day's schedule.
She usually stayed in bed until daylight spilled into the crevices of her bedroom, but this morning she was restless, much like the animals get right before a storm. It wasn't the war or even the impending arrival of the baby, but something else. Something she couldn't quite name. She felt the need to simultaneously go for a hard ride out in the open country and go back to sleep for the next four hours. It was lethargy and energy, dread and anticipation all rolled into one.
She crossed the yard, inhaling the aroma of wet grass, earthy hay, and fresh manure from the barn. In the month prior to Kid's departure, they had made the necessary repairs to the corral fence and hen house in hopes to keep all the animals in and the varmints out. Not even two months had gone by before she discovered a fox had been in the coop, leaving three chicks dead, and four that had gone missing.
The hens became uneasy if Lou robbed them of their eggs too early in the morning, so she tip-toed quietly, easing the door shut behind her, locking it to keep the determined ones from making a silent escape. The inside was full of quiet clucking. The hens were mostly content, but she knew from experience that annoyance from her intrusion wasn't far off.
"Good mornin', little mamas," she murmured as she pulled out six brown eggs, two yellow, lightly speckled, and one as blue as a robin's egg. "Worked hard this mornin', didn't you?" She placed the eggs in the wire basket hanging near the door, then scattered a few scoops of feed across the ground. The hens scurried off of their perches to dine, all unpleasantries forgiven.
With the chicken coop door secured behind her, she paused before heading over to the barn. The misty fog was starting to burn off and the sky was now streaked with bright pinks and yellows. The scene often called to her — the beauty of their swath of land on this earth. Old oaks and maple trees — majestic, tall, and thick, dotted their property as far as the eye could see.
Movement out of the corner of her eye startled her and she turned to find a lone donkey poking his head through the split rails of the pasture fence. Much like the cat, the animal showed up like clockwork in the early morning hours. His tongue pushed through his large teeth, his head nudging her arm in anticipation of his treat of either freshly picked apples or carrots.
"Now just hold your horses!" she warned, reaching into the pocket of her smocked apron. She pulled out the fruit, offering it to him in her flattened palm, his wet nostrils slick against her skin. "A little patience might do you good…not to mention some manners." Talking to the animals was sometimes the only conversation Lou would get for days on end, and she went as far as giving most of them names as they had become, what she considered, her surrogate friends. This ass's name was Cody.
She worked for nearly an hour in the morning sun toting bucket after bucket from the well pump into the house, leaving her lower back aching more than she knew was possible. She tired easily these days and had just sat down on the porch swing for a short reprieve when a thin line of dust near the edge of the tree line captured her attention.
Lou stood decidedly guarded, squinting until her eyes adjusted to the shady depths of the long dirt drive. It was only when she saw Moses's large form driving the wagon toward the house that her thumb released its grip on the hammer of the gun deep within the pocket of her apron. She leaned her body against the porch's post, smiling when the wagon came to a stop just feet in front of her. "Mornin' Moses! What brings you 'round here today?"
"Miz Louise," He nodded in greeting. Rivers of sweat rolled down his face from beneath a floppy hat, soaking his homespun shirt. "I's went into town this morning for Miz 'Liza — needed some things 'fore the babe comes." He continued, removing his hat to run a rag over his short-cropped hair. "Stopped by the mail depot on my way back…" The negro man removed the glove from his right hand. Taking an envelope from his front shirt pocket, he extended his arm out to Lou. "Mr. Evans asked me to give this to you, said it was real important."
Lou had gone to the post office every week since Kid had left nearly four months ago. With no access to newspapers due to a statewide shortage of paper, word of mouth was the only way to keep up with the battles of the war. But every week was the same, being turned away with Mr. Evan's promise of sending a rider her way should mail with her name on it ever cross his desk. Every week she'd hold her breath, eyes scrolling down the lengthy casualty lists posted outside the mail office door, exhaling only when her husband's name was not among the thousands of men listed as dead.
"Thank you, Moses," Lou said softly, reaching a tentative hand out to take the envelope from him. Gazing at the handwriting on the front, she traced her own name with her fingers. She had long memorized the scribbles and scratches that Kid had passed off for writing, and if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that this letter was written by him.
"Anything you need me to do fo ya since I's here, Miz Louise?" Moses asked.
A storm was brewing within her throat and every nerve in her body danced on edge, her mind somersaulting with mixed emotions — hope and dread, anxiety and confidence. "That's mighty kind of you, Moses, but I…I…I have to go. I'm sorry. Tell Eliza and your ma I'll be by to see them tomorrow, will ya?" With the letter in hand, Lou darted off in the direction of the barn without bothering to wait for his response.
She saddled her horse and let the wind carry her thoughts through the western pasture, and within minutes, her back rested against a mighty oak overlooking a spring-fed pond. Spanish moss swayed from its low branches, blocking out the late morning sun that had just risen high enough to pierce through the trees with bright, fresh rays.
The pasture in the morning quickly became a special place, its beauty often pulling her along the way to her favorite spot that made her feel closest to Kid. The pond was a place of peace and serenity that reminded her of their little slice of heaven back in Sweetwater. She found it only fitting that in this exact spot one week ago, she felt the flutters of their unborn child for the first time.
Lou breathed in a deep breath of air, letting it out in a slow stream, her fingers finding the edges of the envelope tucked inside her shirt. Anticipation absorbed her as she opened the letter, her eyes narrowing on the date.
May 30, 1862,
My Dearest Lou,
I ain't never been good at letter writing because there are no words that could ever convey what I feel for you inside my heart. It's been nearly a month since I left you standing there next to our barn that foggy morn. Nearly tore me up inside seeing you cry like that, knowing I was the reason for your tears. The last thing I ever wanted to do was cause you pain, and knowing you're all alone back in Fredericksburg, well, it doesn't make it any easier for me thinking you'd be better off back in Rock Creek. But as selfish as it seems, I'm glad you made the trip with me — felt nice to have you all to myself for a change.
I spent hours lying awake the night before I left just content in watching you sleep. Watching the rise and fall of your chest when you breathe, the way your lashes flutter when you're dreaming, even the little snores that escaped your mouth — you know, the ones you always deny that you do. I memorized it all that night in hopes of taking you with me wherever I go because the image of you drowns out anything this war could ever bring.
I can't help but think of how much my life has changed since I left Virginia those years ago. This land, she raised me for the first fifteen years of my life. The smell of the meadows, the blooming dogwood flowers, even the night sounds of the cicadas and the crickets in the evening take me right back to that little boy that grew up here. I forced myself into seeing the old homestead on my way down to Richmond. Seeing that ramshackled house again after all these years dredged up all kinds of old memories I wasn't prepared for, some of them weren't so bad — but most of them, well, I just assume they'd stay buried for good.
While I was there, I paid my respects to my ma. Never really did get the chance to say a proper goodbye to her. It's hard to believe it's already been twelve years since her passing. Feels like it were only yesterday when she was scolding me for wiping my muddy hands on her clean wash on the clothesline. She always called me her quiet trouble, and well, I ain't going to deny there may have been some truth in that.
I sat at her grave for what felt like forever, brushing away the matted leaves and trimming all the overgrown grass. Told her all about my journey out west and how I found honest work with the Express. She'd be real happy knowing I settled in and found a family who loved me as their own. I think that's all she ever wanted for Jed and me — to experience what a real family is all about and what the possibilities of real love could be. I couldn't bring it upon myself to tell her how Jed came to die. It's strange, but even though she's been gone all this time, I still didn't want to chance breaking her heart like that.
Of course, I couldn't leave without telling her the real reason I stopped to begin with— to tell her the story of how I fell in love with and married my best friend —the woman of my dreams. I would have been so honored and proud to take you home to meet my ma, Lou. She always wanted a daughter of her own and I know she would have loved you dearly. The truth is, I'm one lucky man. I've known real love and true beauty, two things not given to every person.
Now that I'm finally settled on the outskirts of Richmond, I can now tell you that I enlisted in a cavalry division under the command of Jeb Stuart of the Army of Northern Virginia. My experience with the Express has proven to be useful as I've spent the better part of the last two weeks helping train other recruits. You'd be surprised at how inexperienced the enlisted men are, Lou. Many of them don't know how to properly use the weapons they've been issued, and some boys, I'd wager to say, ain't much older than Jesse. We'll surely have our work cut out for us, especially if we're planning on breaking camp and heading north in the next few weeks. I ain't privy to our whereabouts yet, but I've been told they'll use me as a scout when the time comes.
You'd be pleased to know I haven't seen any action yet. Not that I'm eager to get blood on my hands, but you know how hard it is, sitting around and waiting for the pot to boil. The good thing is, I've had plenty of downtime to practice my harmonica. Feels like I'm getting better with each passing day. I don't think I'll ever be as good as Danny was, but you bet the next time I'm home, I'll be ready to serenade you every chance I get.
You're the strongest person I've ever met, Lou, and I know you can hold your own because you have proven it to me time and time again, but I got a feeling this war is going to last a lot longer than any of us ever expected, and with that, there are things you're going to have to be mindful about. Now I know this goes without saying, but keep watch of your supplies and make sure they last — might even want to start storing or burying things in different places along the property — never put all your eggs in one basket, as Teaspoon would say. With war comes desperation, and there's no telling what lengths people will go to when the going gets tough. Just make sure you keep an extra eye on the animals, they'll be the first things that will show up missing.
We're already starting to feel the effects of the Union's blockade and the rations they've been giving us probably wouldn't be enough to keep Cody alive. At the rate we're going, we'll all be replacing our coffee beans with that chicory concoction Barnett used to make. I pray it doesn't come to that. I hope this letter reaches you soon as I am eager to hear how life at our new homestead is treating you. I suspect the mail delivery will be running slow as two of the main rail lines between here and Fredericksburg have been severed. I can only imagine it's going to get worse the longer this war rages on.
As I finish this letter by the fireside tonight, it makes me long for you even more. Reminds me of all those nights we'd spend alone under those starry skies, just laying by the campfire, you in my bedroll — me holding you tight. There is nothing in this world I wouldn't give to see your big brown eyes again. To hear your laughter, touch your skin…to dance — even if it were only for one last time. I miss you so much it hurts. Please write soon.
Love always,
Kid
Thomas held the brittle letter in his hands, its ivory pages wilting away like the petals of a dried-up flower, "For someone who doesn't like to write, it sure is a nice letter. Thank you for showing it to me." He wrote, sending Kid's letter back to Lou through the desk drawer.
Lou's face bore the faint stirrings of a smile."It is, isn't it? I never had any doubt in my mind how Kid felt about me, but somehow seeing his words written down on paper… it just…well, it makes me miss him that much more. I didn't think that was possible."
"You must be relieved after all these months to finally get a letter from him."
"That's the thing. This letter was written almost three months ago, Thomas. Three months ago! I know the mail's been runnin' slow and all, but…do you know how many battles have been fought in northern Virginia in that amount of time?"
Growing up in Virginia, Thomas was well aware of the battles that were fought in the southern state during the Civil War, the majority of them within a seventy-five-mile radius from Fredericksburg. He found himself treading lightly when Louise broached the subject, fearing he'd relinquish too much information that she had no business knowing. "Look at it this way, at least you now know what command he is serving under. You can write your heart away, finally tell him that news you've been waiting to tell him."
"I ain't so sure I oughta tell him now."
"Why's that?" Thomas wondered.
"If I know Kid like I think I do, when he finds out he left me here all alone bein' with child, the war he'll wager inside of his head is gonna be much greater than the war he's fightin' here in Virginia."
"He cares an awful lot about you. You're one lucky woman."
She sighed, "I know. It's just, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. Children were never part of the plan, leastways not until the war was over."
"Babies tend to come into our lives whether we plan it or not, bringing joy to our hearts when we need it the most. I see it in my line of work all the time. I can't tell you what to do, Louise, but if I was the one fighting in the war and I found out my wife was back at home expecting a child, you bet your life I'd fight extra hard to make sure I came back to the both of them safe. You might want to keep that in mind."
"Maybe you're right. I never thought about it that way before," she paused in contemplation."Thomas, you said you had a wife once — what happened?"
Thomas grew quiet, and the silence was more than Lou could handle. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business."
"It's alright. Your question just caught me off guard, that's all." He took in a deep breath and let it out in a rush, "It's a subject I always have to build up the courage to talk about."
"Reminds me of something that Teaspoon always told us —that 'courage is being scared to death, but saddlin' up anyway.'"
"Actually, it was John Wayne who said that," Thomas informed her.
"John who?"
Thomas shook his head, wondering if it were possible that the great John Wayne actually stole the quote from the infamous Teaspoon Hunter. "Well, I'll be…" He thought to himself. "Nevermind," He wrote back.
The knot in Thomas's stomach was nagging and persistent. Talking about his wife was always hard, but he felt it was the least he could do after Lou confided in him a few nights ago. Her vulnerability surprised even him when she brought forth her childbearing concerns, telling her story of abuse by some man named Wicks.
"I met Jill while attending college in Baltimore. She was independent, intelligent, outgoing, beautiful…I could go on and on." Thomas said, mustering a slight smile. "She had the prettiest golden curls you'd ever seen and dimples that could melt your heart. I knew from the very first moment I laid my eyes on her that I wanted to marry her."
"She sounds lovely," Lou added.
Thomas smiled, "I think a small miracle happened the night I got down on one knee to propose. To this day, I still can't figure out why a woman of that caliber chose me, a lanky kid from Fredericksburg, Virginia." He paused a beat before continuing, "I was still in my residency when we finally got married. It was three years to the day after we first met. Life was good. I started my practice about a year later, and soon after that, we found out Jill was expecting. We were so happy."
"Then what?" Lou asked.
"One night, about a month before the baby was to be born, we got into an argument. Hell, I don't even remember what we were fighting about. We were both so angry and infuriated with one another, each taking cheap shots trying to make the other hurt more." He swallowed back the lump in his throat, "Jill packed her bags and decided she was going to stay at her parent's house for the night. It was raining so hard when she left, I could barely see the tail lights on her Mustang when she drove away."
Lou remained quiet, afraid to interrupt. She read between the lines and deduced that the 'Mustang' Thomas was referring to was not a horse.
"I wasn't expecting her back until the next day, so you can imagine my surprise when there was a knock at the door shortly after midnight," he sighed and closed his eyes at the memory. "I didn't want to answer the door because I knew no good news ever comes at that time of night."
Lou was sure she didn't want to hear what was coming next, but she knew she couldn't leave Thomas's side.
"It doesn't matter how hard I try, I can never get that police officer's voice out of my head — even after all these years." A lone tear streamed down his cheek as he recited the words. "'Mr. Parker, I deeply regret to be the one to inform you of this, but your wife, Jill, was in a motor vehicle accident tonight…son, I'm afraid she didn't survive.' "
"Oh, Thomas. I…I'm so sorry." Lou's stomach clenched as if his words were a physical blow, realizing Thomas was living her worst nightmare — losing a spouse and child.
"I should have gone after her, but my damn pride got in the way! I had the power to stop her from leaving, but all I did was encourage her. I could have saved them, Louise. I guess that's why I feel so comfortable living with the mountain guilt I've harbored inside of me for the last eight years."
"It wasn't your fault, Thomas," Lou insisted. "It could happen to anyone. You have to realize that."
Thomas read Lou's words, knowing she had good intentions, but they did nothing but add to his guilt. His dark thoughts trudged on, feeling he deserved every ounce of pain that was thrown his way. "We were going to have a baby boy, decided to name him Jameson Thomas Parker— an old family name. I never even got the chance to hold him."
"That's a nice strong name, Thomas," Lou murmured, blinking back her tears. She rubbed her hand along the side of her swollen belly, feeling her own baby's movements beneath her touch, dread coursing through her with the realization it can all be taken away in a moment's notice.
Thomas continued, "After the funeral, I never went back to visit their grave — never went back to tell her how sorry I was or how much I loved her and our baby. I guess I was too afraid." An acute longing to escape crawled from his chest into his throat, and he squeezed his eyes closed. "Grace tried to be there for me, but I shut her out too. She was pretty sick in her final years…" Thomas shook his head, "She was the one who took me in when I needed someone the most…and that was the thanks I gave her. I was selfish and became a man I didn't recognize anymore." The hitch in his chest grew tighter, "There is nothing sadder in this world than losing yourself."
Thomas's last words rang in Lou's mind, and she realized that he was right. Lou had lost herself after what had happened with Wicks, and at one point, she never thought she'd be able to claw her way back to Louise again. But she did. Slowly.
"I don't have to know Grace or Jill to know that they loved you dearly. You're kind and caring and you're a much better man than you give yourself credit for, Thomas Parker. You're here on this Earth for a reason. You have a purpose in life, just remember that."
The late afternoon sun slashed long beams of light across the worn hardwood floor. He looked down at his watch, surprised to find it was only 4:45 pm. The days were getting shorter, and he found it hard to believe tomorrow was already September 1st. "I should go. The foreman from the construction company is coming in the morning to show me the final plans and do a walk-through for the house renovation. I've got some boxes to go through in here before he comes."
"You sure you're gonna be alright?" She asked.
"Yeah, I think I just need some fresh air." With that, Thomas pushed the note through the drawer of the desk one last time then rested his head back on the chair and closed his eyes. He imagined after eight long years he'd be able to better understand the complexity of the human heart, how it can clench both pain and hope in the same tight space, but his hurt still lingered in his chest like the tangible force it was.
Thomas glanced around the bedroom and all he could think about was Grace. He'd spent the better half of the past three months rummaging through all the closets and drawers, cleaning out forgotten file folders, cardboard boxes, and cabinets — even managed to find a small fortune in dollar bills pinned under lampshades, in between the pages of books, and inside picture frames. He hated the clutter and chaos but kept searching for anything that held meaning, something that may have shown him more of who the McClouds were — things that would connect him to Louise.
The news of the impending renovation being moved up to mid-September was the push he needed to finish clearing out the house. All of the rooms now sat empty with the exception of Louise's bedroom. Donations were made to the Virginia Historical Society and Goodwill, but the majority of the furniture pieces and other heirlooms he couldn't part with now sat in a storage facility on the outskirts of town. The items that didn't hold personal or financial value were tossed into the rotation of dumpsters that were parked out in the drive.
Feeling like an unwanted intruder invading Louise's space, Thomas had saved her bedroom for last. The room itself was like a time capsule of the 1800s, and instead of redoing the room to match the rest of the house, he decided to only replace the loose floorboards in the middle of the room, opting to keep everything else original and undisturbed.
Thomas crouched down beside a large brown trunk at the foot of the bed, the red stamp of 'Property of Russell, Majors, and Waddell' barely visible through the layer of dust on the top. He had eyed the box since his first day back on the ranch, his mind often wondering what contents it held inside.
His fingers swiped across the etchings on the tarnished lock on the front of the trunk, his heart beating faster when he read the engraving, 'Lou McCloud, Pony Express, 1860.' He flipped the latch, thankful a key was not required, the lid opening with a creak.
Inside were a few loose photographs, letters bound together with string, a magazine entitled: 'True Tales of the West,' On the Trail With the Pony Express, by William F. Cody, several yellowed newspaper clippings covering the death of Wild Bill Hickok, a Jesse James 'Wanted' poster, an eagle feather, a fringed leather something or other, a white nightgown, a holstered gun, hat, glasses, and one beautiful hand-carved wooden box.
Thomas reached into the trunk, pausing as he placed his hands on either side of the wooden box, carefully pulling it onto his lap. The glow of the late afternoon sun fell across the wood, revealing intricately engraved flowers on its lid. He immediately recognized the flowers as being honeysuckle, the same flowers that were engraved on the picture frame that held Louise and Kid's wedding photo.
Inside the box was an envelope; the back seal was jagged as if it had been torn open. Thomas worked his fingers inside. Instead of finding something whole, his fingers brushed small pieces of paper. He hesitated, then turned the envelope over and poured the contents out into his hand.
The pieces of paper were torn with angry rips and rough edges. The ink had faded, but the words written in a steady, sure hand were still legible: Kid, war, Rock Creek, children, heartache. Seen together, maybe they would have meant something, but in his quick scan of the words in the fading sunlight, they meant nothing — until the last bit of paper stopped him.
"Oh, God…no!"
A/N: It felt good to get back to writing Thomas. I have missed him.