The sun topped the crest of Spanish oak that hung thick with moss. Long rows of white dotted the landscape. Cotton pickers with their heads swathed in white cloth straightened to shade their eyes and watch the passing spectacle. Two soldiers wearing Confederate gray and one wearing Union blue rode past. Men going home to waiting family. Two baritones sang “Dixie.”
The Union solider, singing in a deep bass, led the strange pack with a rousing “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” The result was an odd clatter of
“Mine eyes have seen the glory!”
“Oh, I wish I was in the land of cotton!”
“Of the coming of the Lord!”
“Old times there are not forgotten!”
Puzzled gapes followed the strange procession as the men’s laughter trailed them down the road. The war ended months ago, and the sight of troops moving along the road was nothing new to the pickers. No doubt it was the returning men’s strange way of celebrating that caught their attention.
Preach broke into the second verse of “Dixie,” wincing when a wadded-up hat hit him in the back. Grinning, he lifted his chin and sang louder.
The men’s infectious laughter filled their surroundings. Pierce drew in a deep breath of the hot, stifling air. Freedom. The word had never sounded so good.
“I can taste those mudbugs now,” Preach declared. “And potatoes, onions, and corn.”
“Hah!” Throwing back his head, Pierce laughed. “We will celebrate the joy of living, my friends.” Closing his eyes, he soaked in the soft breeze playing across his face. Thank You, God, for bringing me home. Breathing in another deep draught, he paused, frowning.
Smoke?
They rounded a curve in the road, and ahead of them a bellowing black cloud filled the horizon.
“Grass fire?” Gray Eagle wondered.
Pierce lifted a brow. “Might be.” His gaze rested on the heavy blanket of smoke sweeping across a nearby cotton field. The light wind was catching the fire and spreading it across dry fields. “Could be a homesteader burning off his land.”
“Don’t think so. The wind’s blowing too strong. Any farmer with a lick of sense wouldn’t burn today.”
All laughter gone, the men spurred their horses and rode toward the smoke.
Flames licked across parched fields, devouring cotton like a hungry beast. The soldiers drew up as the inferno threatened. Lifting an elbow to shield his eyes as the wind caught burnt embers and scattered fiery darts, Pierce called out, “Is that a homestead?”
The men’s gazes focused on a distant dwelling and small outbuilding, now engulfed in flames.
“Think we should check on the livestock?” Preach’s gaze focused on the small holding pen that sat to the side of the shanty. Smoke shifted and clogged the men’s view. “Can’t tell if there’s anything in there. Can you?”
Shaking his head, Pierce said, “I can’t.” Pulling his handkerchief over his mouth, he said, “I’ll ride in and see.”
“I’ll ride with you.” Preach pulled up alongside him.
Keeping to the rim of the fire, the men’s eyes fastened on the crudely constructed corral. Moments later the shanty’s roof collapsed to the ground.
Heavy smoke roiled upward. Pierce’s eyes teared up from the searing inferno. “Easy, Sue.” He spoke softly to the mare, nudging her closer. The animal veered from the heat. He lifted his voice to get his friend’s attention. “Preach!”
“Sir!”
“I’m going to check the gate!”
“I’ll do it, sir!”
“You ride ahead and see if you can spot any sign of life.” The owners had to be around—unless they were burnt alive in the inferno. Spurring the mare, Pierce rode toward the flames.
Sue stepped lightly, shying, but he pushed her closer. Heat nearly blinded him when he reached the pen and found it empty. Giving Sue her head then, he galloped on, holding his left arm up to shield his eyes. He didn’t breathe until he burst through the fiery perimeter and rejoined the men. Preach was back. His mahogany face was smoke blackened, his eyes sorrowful. Two women were draped across the back of his horse.
Pierce’s bleary gaze skimmed the strange sight. “What’s that?”
Glancing back at the two inert forms, Preach said, “The way I see it, sir? Trouble.” His dark eyes rested on the female forms. “Pure trouble.”
Wiping his eyes with his handkerchief, Pierce tried to focus. “Are they the homesteaders?”
“Don’t know, sir. I found this one—” he rested his hand on a seared trouser—“trying to pull this one”—his hand moved to the second form—“out of the flames. If I hadn’t come along when I did, they’d both be goners.”
Able to see now, Pierce rode up, eying the strangers. “They’re too young to be homesteaders. Where are their parents?”
“Didn’t see anyone but these two crawl out of the field.” He motioned to his passengers. “Don’t know why they’re wearing men’s clothing, but they ain’t men, sir. They’re women. If you and Gray Eagle will look after them, I’ll ride back and look for others.”
Pierce dismounted and moved to Preach’s horse. The Indian scout joined him. Together, they gently moved the limp forms to the ground. Pierce bent close to one, sighing with relief when he detected life. “This one’s breathing.” He turned to the other. “And so is this one.”
Preach rode off as Pierce and Gray Eagle poured water from a canteen on their handkerchiefs and wiped the women’s faces. One started to come around, fighting off Pierce’s assistance.
“It’s okay, lady,” he said. “You’re safe.”
The woman looked at him, and Pierce met a pair of clear hazel eyes. Their gazes locked, and then she struggled to break his hold.
Pierce’s nodded to the second woman. “Easy, ma’am,” he said to the first. “There’s another woman with you. Any idea who she—”
The girl shot upright and leaned over the other female lying beside her. She lightly shook the unconscious form. The young woman stirred, coughing.
“She’s going to be fine.” Pierce gently lowered the first girl back to the ground. “You’ve eaten a lot of smoke, but you’re going to be fine as well.” When Pierce realized she hadn’t yet said a word, he frowned. Could she talk? “Where are your folks?”
She broke his hold and reached to cradle the other woman to her chest.
“She’s okay.” After pouring more water on his handkerchief, he gently wiped the coughing girl’s face again. She was young—late teens or early twenties—and jackrabbit scared. “Is she your sister?” The observation seemed a likely connection. The two women favored each other—same blond hair streaked by sun, petite build, and fragile bone structure. The younger girl’s hacking breaths went far beyond smoke inhalation. Pierce recognized the struggle taking place in the girl’s lungs. “She has asthma.”
The older sister nodded and then latched tightly to his hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes. The coughing sister managed, “Please, sir, take us away from here.”
Pierce glanced away. “Is anyone else here? Your family?”
She shook her head. “Only Beth and me. Ma and Pa are dead. Died this week.” She turned and focused on the flames. “The fire started in the shanty…and it took over so quickly. Before we knew it, the flames were burning the field.”
Piece swiped off his hat, respectfully observing the women’s great losses. The countryside swarmed with rebel bands intent on doing harm. He figured the raids and destruction would continue for a while and that he was likely looking at the evidence of this violence. He turned to glance at the shanty’s blazing inferno, his eyes searching the area for signs of brewing trouble. There were bound to be many types of lowlife looking for ill-gotten gain.
Turning, he gently lifted the coughing woman, who introduced herself as Joanie, into his arms even as another spasm wracked her frail frame. Preach, who had come back empty-handed, stepped up. “Sir? If you’ll allow me. My family suffered the same affliction.”
Joanie’s strangled breath sucked in the smoky air when the captain handed her over. Her frantic wheezing filled the silence. With the gentleness of a caring soul, the black solider smoothed hair back from the girl’s oval-shaped face.
“Can’t breathe—”
“Hold tight to my hand.” Preach glanced at Pierce. “We have to get her away from the smoke, sir.”
The captain motioned for Preach to take the lead. Lifting the other girl in his arms, Pierce carried her to his horse and asked, “What’s your name?”
She spoke for the first time. “Beth”
“Well, Beth.” He gently set her on Sue and then mounted up in front of her. “Looks like we came along at the right time.”
“I want to be with Joanie.”
“Preach has your sister. She’s in good hands.” He fell in behind the other two men.
“Where are you taking us?” He recognized stark fear in her tone, and he realized she had every right to be afraid. Three strange men on a deserted road. Any woman with good sense would be frightened.
“We’re not going to harm you. Right now we’re getting your sister out of the smoke.”
The young lady shifted to peer around him to Joanie, who was lying in the black man’s arms across his saddle. “Is she breathing?”
“She’s breathing. And once she’s out of the smoke she’ll rest easier.” Pierce had fought alongside men with the affliction. He even had an aunt who suffered with the ailment.
Beth settled herself behind his back again, her small frame breaking into heaving sobs. “I have to get help for Joanie,” she said, her tone muffled.
“Ma’am?”
She cleared her throat. “I have to get help for my sister. She’s very sick.” She peered around his shoulder again, and as he turned his head back toward her he caught a glimpse of her fear-filled eyes roaming the area.
“Are you looking for someone?”
“No, sir. Can you ride faster?”
“I’m afraid I can’t. I can barely follow the road now.” Heavy black smoke filled the hills and hollows.
“Then no one can see us—right?”
“You’re right. Is someone looking for us?”
“Um…no.”
Pierce kept his eyes on the path. The girl was hiding something, but what? And why? He’d assured her they meant them no harm.
He shook off his thoughts. He was a stranger. Her troubles didn’t concern him.
“You have kinfolk nearby?”
“No. I have to get help for Joanie.”
The wind shifted and the smoke temporarily cleared. Ahead, two other riders appeared holding cloths over their mouths. Beth stiffened when she caught sight of them. She reached out and grasped Pierce’s arm. “Please…please don’t let them take us.”
Frowning, Pierce studied the men. “Do you know them?”
Her muffled answer came to him softly. “My uncle and cousin.”
Pierce pinned his eyes on the impending company and kept a steady hand near his sidearm. “Thought you said you didn’t have kin nearby.”
“I…misled you. I’m sorry for that, but I’m scared of this man and his son.”
The horses drew near and stopped. A gust of wind sent smoke spiraling into their faces. When his vision cleared, Pierce skimmed the men’s unkempt appearance, heavy black beards, and flint-hard eyes.
Preach was right. These women were going to be trouble.