Benedict and Brazos 19 by E. Jefferson Clay

Author:E. Jefferson Clay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: war between the states, action heroes, piccadilly publishing, craig johnson, best western ebook, western fiction ebooks, land barons, the american civil war, gunment of the old west
Publisher: Piccadilly

Chapter Seven – Bury Him Deep

Morning light came slowly to the quiet place beside the Chad River. Fish made breath rings on the gray surface of the water, and farther downstream a fat jackrabbit stopped at the sound of voices, his long gray ears folded against his head.

Lonnie lay on his back in the yellow sand, his head on his sister’s lap, staring up through the twining magnolia limbs at the slowly brightening sky. Emma’s fingers moved gently through Lonnie’s thick, silky hair as she watched the water and told him again about that great day in the past ...

“... Then the Jacksons came in their fine white carriage drawn by four white Arab horses, and General Peach arrived last with four servants to carry our presents. And later, when all the guests were assembled in the entrance room, you and I came down the stairs and everybody sang ‘Happy Birthday,’ and Uncle Samuel threatened to drink fifteen whiskies, one for each year of our lives. Everybody went quiet when Mama appeared at the top of the stairs. Her hair was piled high and she was wearing the green dress with the—”

“Blue. It was blue, Emma.”

“Are you sure, Lonnie?”

“Yes, it was blue with big sleeves and ...” Lonnie Claiborne’s voice faded and his slim body shook as he returned to the present. “It was the same color as Holloway’s shirt, Emma ... and then there was blood on her dress when they killed her ... like there was blood on his shirt when he rolled over on the—”

“Please, Lonnie, don’t think about it. It wasn’t your fault.”

The boy sat up violently, turning to face her. “He hurt you like they were hurting Mama. I know he always blamed me for not saving Mama, so why does he blame me now for protecting you? Why? I just didn’t want him to hurt you the way Mama was—”

“Lonnie, don’t get upset again.”

“He hates me,” the boy said bitterly. “No matter what I do, he says it’s wrong. He should have been proud for what I tried to do in there, but instead he calls me a fool. He thinks I’m just a kid and will never be anything else. But I’m a man, Mama, and I’ll prove to him that I’m a man one day ... won’t I, Mama?”

Pain touched the girl’s face as the look in his eyes told her that in his mind a golden summer of years ago had become indistinguishable from a tragic night in Missouri. With gentle pressure on his shoulders, she made him settle back again and then she stroked his hair.

“My head aches, Emma,” he said. “It’s aching real bad.”

Her fingers gently traced the old scar in her brother’s scalp where the Union trooper’s rifle had struck. “Is that where it hurts, Lonnie?”

“Yeah, that’s it ... but it feels better now ... lots better …” He smiled, looking up at the sky. “It’s a fine day for our birthday, Emma, see?”

The girl looked up. The sky over Shiloh was changing colors, red in the east, still night blue in the west.

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