“True, but…I should have gone with you rather than acting like an idiot. I let my misplaced sense of loyalty cloud my judgement. When all was said and done, the color of our uniforms didn’t matter so much. Most of the boys I knew didn’t even understand why they were fighting. They didn’t own slaves. War’s a funny thing, men don’t usually fight for a cause. They fight because they don’t want to let their comrades down.” He bowed his head in remorse. “And I let you down.”
Reno shook his head. “Water under the bridge. You’ve proved yourself a thousand times over as far as I’m concerned.” He made sure the trough was full. “Let’s go in. There’s food. Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.” Clay slapped his hat against his knee. “Lead on.” After Reno latched the door, they began their trek to the cabin. “The Locum place was hit. Got burned out.”
Reno stopped in his tracks. “You’re just now mentioning this?”
Clay shrugged. “I was glad to see you.”
With a snort, Reno chuckled. “What did you hear? Are they alive?”
“Yea. Mr. Locum was there when I rode past, searching through the rubble. They managed to escape, but a war party raided the place, taking everything of value and burning the house and barn to the ground. Stole all the livestock too.”
“Damn. The Locums are less than a mile from here. The man I ran off was probably a scout. This place could be next.” He picked up his pace. “Hell, I’ve got to get the children to safety before they come back.”
Just before they reached the door, it swung open and Saul stood there with a pale face and dark eyes. “Mr. Clay! How are you?”
“Fine. Fine.” He shook the boy’s offered hand. “Heard you had a visitor earlier.”
“We did.” Huck inserted. “An Injun. He didn’t hurt us though.”
Reno moved to the fire and propped his rifle next to the hearth. He noticed Emory was curled up on a pallet playing with his turtle while Tess was napping with her doll. “Soup smells good. Saul, get Mr. Bennett a bowl.”
“Sure thing.” The boy did as he was asked. “I packed a few things, Reno.”
“Just a few things?” He moved to one of the four windows in the cabin to peer outside. All seemed clear.
“Yea. Do you think it’s really necessary for…?”
Reno cut Saul’s question short. “Yes. It is.” He glanced at the boy and tried to ignore his beseeching eyes. “I know you’re worried about this cabin. But it’s just a house.”
“No, it’s all we have left of our folks,” Saul’s protest started loudly, but lessened when he saw he’d awakened his little sister.
Closing his eyes, Reno was silent for a moment. Finally, he lifted his head. “You and your sister and brothers were your parent’s most precious possessions – not this cabin. Not this land. You.” He swallowed and held Saul’s eyes in a prolonged stare. “Do it for them. Do it for me.”
Saul lifted his hand and palmed the back of his head, clearly upset. “All right, Reno. We’ll go.”
Emory jumped up and clapped his hands. “I’ll pack my turtle. I love Miss Fancy’s cooking!”
Reno let out a long breath of relief. “We’ll hit the trail at first light.”
Journey
“Good deal. This will do.” Satisfied with the workstation she’d arranged in the sunroom; Journey snapped her fingers. “Okay, dogs. Let’s adjourn to the kitchen. Are you hungry?”
A chorus of agreeing yips filled the air. “You’re so funny.” It amused her at the number of words they seemed to recognize. Food. Hungry. Go. Treat. Surprise. Walk. “I’ve dated guys with a smaller vocabulary than you two.”
Padding barefoot across the Mexican tile floor, she found the dry food to fill their bowls. After making sure the dogs had fresh water, she found her great-aunt’s favorite cookbook. While sitting on a barstool, she sipped a cold drink, and decided on a soup recipe. Noting the time, Journey surveyed the contents of the pantry and fridge. “No canned tomatoes? No celery? Lots of chicken. No beef.” As close as she was to her aunt, they didn’t share the same taste in everything. Making a list of the ingredients she needed for the soup and a few other items, Journey grabbed her purse and keys. If she hurried, she’d make the trip to Fredericksburg and back by dark.
Heading for the front door, Journey couldn’t help but let the atmosphere of the house wash over her. So many memories. This was truly the only home she could remember. Very few recollections remained of the time before her parents were killed in a boating accident on Lake Travis. Aunt Myra became her guardian, caretaker, and best friend. This old stone house with its mixture of old and new was her haven. Her sanctuary. As she walked slowly from room to room, her eyes flitted from a painting on the wall depicting a huge oak surrounded by bluebonnets, then to the antique buffet with its centerpiece of dried flowers flanked by family photographs. She noticed the old hall chair with its mirror, umbrella stands, and coat hooks. Every item of furniture, every painting, every rug was a piece in the puzzle of her life. Stopping in her tracks, she closed her eyes, letting the feeling of rightness settle around her shoulders like a warm cloak.
After a few moments, she heard the faint click of dog toenails on the tile. Knowing those two, they’d soon be begging for a road trip. “Not this time, guys. I’ll be back soon. With treats!” She promised, mentally adding some dog snacks to the list.
Giving Dudley a goodbye wave, she flipped the lock, stepping out onto the porch. Immediately, the grape bubble gum scent of Myra’s mountain laurel bushes enveloped
