Branches lashed at my face as I urged the horse forward through woods thick with branches and underbrush. I pulled the reins this way and that, trying to remember where the cabin stood. Finally, completely disoriented, I reined in and peered into the darkness. Where is the cabin? Which way do I go? When something rustled in the woods behind me, I reached for the pistol and turned my steed.
A man on horseback emerged into a patch of moonlight. His clothes were dark, his hat was pulled low, and the only thing I could really make out was the glint of the weapon pointed at me.
“What brings you this way, little lady?”
My fingers tightened on the pistol’s grip. I said nothing. “Seems there’s quite a commotion going on at the James’ place. I watched you ride out, so I know your husband’s around here somewhere. On your way to fetch him, aren’t you?”
“No,” I spat the word.
“Come now. We both know better than that, Mrs. James. How ’bout you take me to Jesse? I’ve a mind to collect that reward money. Gonna enjoy seein’ that southern piece of scum dangle. But I’m in no hurry. Got plenty of time for a bit of fun with his wife. It’d be an extra reward. A bonus I didn’t count on.” He smiled, lowered his gun slightly, and spurred his horse toward me.
The idea of the man’s hands on my flesh made me want to retch. I lifted the gun and fired it straight into his chest. The man’s eyes went wide as he slid from the saddle, hitting the ground with a thud. His animal snorted and bolted into the brush. I stared down at the unmoving form until my entire body began to shake. My teeth chattered, and my heart thudded in my throat. I turned the horse around, bent over it’s neck, and sped away from what I’d just done.
“Jesse! Jesse! It’s me!” I called into the night, trying to make sure I wouldn’t be shot by one of his men. I finally found the clearing and saw Jesse and Frank crouched on the porch, weapons drawn. Two rifle barrels poked from openings in the cabin’s walls.
I heard Jesse and Frank swear, and they holstered their guns. Jesse reached me first, pulling me from the horse, cursing softly under his breath. My hands were so stiff, Frank had to pry them from the reins. Jesse carried me inside to a chair by the hearth where a low fire blazed. Frank grabbed a blanket and threw it over my shoulders while Clell brought hot coffee.
My teeth chattered against the cup as Jesse murmured. “Just a small sip. Don’t try to talk yet.”
I pushed the cup away. “Someone came to the farm while we were asleep. They set fire to the kitchen and threw some sort of metal fireball inside. Reuben pushed it into the fireplace, and the whole thing exploded.”
Jesse looked at Frank, their faces hard. When Jesse spoke, his voice made me shiver again.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Reuben and Ambrose are wounded, burned. But they’ll survive.” I swallowed hard and stared into the lethal blue of Jesse’s eyes. “Your mother’s arm is torn up but … Archie …”
Jesse surged to his feet. An expression, unlike anything I’d ever seen before, sliced like a razor toward the others. “Get your weapons. We’re riding to the farm now.”
Clell grabbed his arm. “It’s a trap. They’ll be waiting to gun us down no sooner than we get there.”
Frank’s face was pale as death, and a vein throbbed in his neck. “Wait. Let’s find out who did this first. Then I swear, we’ll make them pay.”
Jesse’s lips were rimmed with white when I reached for his clenched fist. “Most of the close neighbors had come to help by the time I left. I’m sure if he’s not there already, the sheriff will arrive soon.”
My voice faltered as the image of Archie’s colorless face and the bloody hole torn into his belly flashed into my mind.
“Drink,” Jesse said, pointing to the cup. “It’ll help.” He squeezed my shoulder before leaving me to join the other men. They stood at a small table in the cabin’s kitchen, methodically checking their weapons. The sound of sharp clicks mixed with whispers kept me silent, still trying to make sense of what had happened.
Finally, Jesse came back and hunkered down at my side.
“You’ve been through too much tonight. I want you to sleep here. Bill will stay with you, and then he’ll see you back to the farm tomorrow. Ma’s going to need you. I’ll have some of the boys keep watch over the house. Once we know who’s responsible for this, we’ll make our plans.”
“Jesse, I took someone’s horse to get here. I don’t even know who it belongs to. And that’s not all.” My eyes closed while I drew in a breath. “A man tried to stop me in the woods. He knew who I was and wanted me to take him to you so he could collect the reward.” I stared into Jesse’s face, unable to tell him what else the man said. “I shot him with the gun you gave me. It’s in my bag.”
“Is he dead?”
“I think so … I don’t know.”
“I’ll wager he’s a part of this, either a Pinkerton or a bounty hunter. Why else would he be in the woods late at night watching? Bill will take care of everything. You rest now. And when you go back, tell Ma no one is to know you were there when any of this happened, or the sheriff will never let go of asking you questions.”
“What if they’ve already told him or told the neighbors?”
Jesse shoved a second pistol into his waistband. “If there’s one thing my family knows how to do, it’s keep their mouths shut over things other people don’t need to know.”
I curled inside the blanket next to the fire with my hand protectively over my stomach. I didn’t feel any cramps and could only hope the wild ride hadn’t affected the baby. Then I remembered what I’d done and took deep breaths to keep from vomiting. I mouthed a prayer for forgiveness, and then, even frightened as I was, the fire’s warmth lulled me into a troubled sleep.
When light peeking from behind a dark curtain finally woke me, I looked around and saw no one but Bill, who sat quietly at the table. He stepped outside while I changed and then stepped inside while I went out to relieve myself. I walked past a horse and small buggy standing near the horse I’d taken from the farm. A third horse was tethered to a post. When I returned, Clell was tying the two animals behind the buggy.
“I’ve got your bag, ma’am,” he said. “You’re to take this rig back to the farm.” He offered his hand and helped me climb onto the driver’s seat.
“Where did it come from?”
“Oh, I ’quired ’em nearabouts.”
“I see,” my voice shook. I didn’t ask any more questions, being in no position to fault him for anything he might do.
“I’ll ride with you a ways then turn the nag you borrowed loose a mile or so from the farm. Somebody’ll find him quick enough and take him back where he belongs.”
“What about,” I gulped, “the man I shot?”
“I tracked back from where you came and found him. He’s dead all right. You shot true, and that’s the best way to shoot when your life’s on the line.”
Another sin on my soul. Yet now wasn’t the time to consider it. What I’d find at the farm filled me with dread enough.
Once we were close, Bill pulled the reins and stepped down from the buggy. He mounted his own horse and took the reins of the other.
“Keep your pistol handy and stay on the lookout.”
I watched him ride off, took a breath, and then slapped the reins. The horse moved forward, buggy wheels crunching over frozen ground until ahead of me, in the dim light of morning, the farm appeared, eerily silent. The caustic scent of blackened and charred boards burned my nose, and bile rose in my throat.
Reuben sat on the front steps, hands covering his face. I seated myself beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. He looked up finally, eyes red and face splotchy. “He’s gone. My baby boy is gone.”
My heart twisted. Sweet little Archie. He would not catch a tadpole in the spring after all. “I’m so sorry.” We sat for a quiet moment before he spoke again.
“Zerelda’s arm couldn’t be saved. Dr. Allen amputated it just below the elbow early this morning. She’s resting now, thanks to a dose of morphine.”
“I’ll go check on her.” I gave his shoulders a squeeze and stood on shaky legs. Inside, I crept past Charlotte in the kitchen and on toward the sleeping room where someone had pulled a curtain halfway across the window. Zerelda lay in the darkened room with her eyes closed. Heavy bandages were wrapped around what remained of her arm. On a small cot next to her bed lay Archie’s body, covered with a blanket as though he, too, was merely sleeping. Perry stood next to him, staring at his young friend with a trembling lip.
I rested a hand on his shoulder. “Your mama is in the kitchen. Run along and see if you can help her.”
Perry took a final anguished look at Archie, and then left to do as I bid.
Zerelda stirred and moaned. Her eyelids fluttered open. “What can I do for you, Aunt?” I asked.
She emerged from the fog of morphine enough to look up at me with bleary eyes. “It is too late to do anything but help get my child ready for the grave.” Her words slurred and her voice rasped as though she’d strained it. “Were you able to find my boys?”
“Yes. Frank and Jesse are trying to discover what happened and will see you when they can.” I smoothed her hair. “They’re making plans. I know they won’t let this go unanswered.”
“We always have to get justice our own way, don’t we? There certainly won’t be any from the sheriff.”
“Jesse says no one is to know about me being here last night. I’m not sure what difference it makes now, but that’s what he wants.”
She nodded. “He’s right. The coroner and his jury are coming to the house tonight for the inquest. We don’t need to give them anything more to pry into than necessary.” She glanced at her bandaged arm. “Since I can’t travel, they’re coming to me. All they will hear is what they need to find the men who murdered my innocent baby.” She choked back a sob. “Oh God oh God oh God …”
I took her hand and prayed over her until the soft words calmed her into sleep.
Bundling myself against the cold night air, I drove the rig as far from the farm as I dared. By the time Ambrose came to let me know the inquest had ended, my hands were numb and my feet like blocks of ice. He tied his mule to the wagon and took the reins. On the ride home, he told me what happened.
At six o’clock, five men from the area had arrived, accompanied by a reporter and Mr. Albright, the coroner. They convened in the sleeping room, gathered around Zerelda and Archie, and spoke to each other in low tones.
Mr. Albright had stroked his beard before raising a hand for silence. “We are bound by law to investigate any violent or suspicious death. Our job today is to gather evidence on what happened here. If the jury finds a crime caused this child to die and this woman to be injured, then the matter will be turned over to the marshal for him to find the culprits and arrest them for what they’ve done. Do you have any questions?” The men looked at each other, but no one spoke. “Fine then. We’ll get to our work.”
The coroner pulled back the blanket, so the men could see Archie’s wound. Then Reuben and Ambrose described what happened. When the men questioned Zerelda, she sat up in her bed, white-faced with pain and spoke in a voice that quivered with emotion. She pointed at Archie’s body, and demanded the men who had murdered her child be found. Ambrose said by the faces of the jury, Zerelda’s testimony had a powerful effect. Not even a heart of stone could fail to melt in the face of such passion.
After the questioning, the men examined the kitchen and went outside to view the damage done to the house. They walked the grounds and looked in the barn. By the time the jury went back inside, the moon had risen high in the sky. Mr. Albright told Reuben the matter would be turned over to the sheriff.
When I got back to the house, I gave Zerelda a dose of pain medicine and laid in a bed close to her in case she needed help. When her breathing came soft and regular, I closed my eyes. The image of Archie’s dear face and sweet smile did not leave me.
The next morning, hammers pounded. Reuben and Ambrose were already repairing the damage outside. Inside, Charlotte and I filled a basin with water for the sad task of bathing Archie’s small body. Despite the many wounds I’d seen in the past, his made me wince more than any had ever done. The child’s pain must have been unendurable. My tears fell as I worked. Zerelda looked at Archie and her mouth trembled as she directed us to dress him in a suit of Confederate gray.
News of the attack appeared in papers and spread fast throughout Clay County—then across the nation. People wanted to know what had happened, and they wanted to know why. Other news of the day disappeared, and reporters flocked to Clay County like flies buzzing around honey.
Zerelda’s strong constitution and pure grit held her upright during Archie’s funeral, despite the agony that throbbed in the stump of her arm. Our family, neighbors, and friends arrived to pay their respects. Reporters came too, their eyes darting through the mourners, no doubt hoping they’d find Jesse and Frank among them. John Newman Edwards shook my hand, his brows furrowed over intelligent eyes, to express his condolences.
“Rest assured, Mrs. James, I will write about this low blow against the South and demand justice.”
My old friend Catherine, now newly married herself, came all the way from Harlem to Kearney, and kissed my cheek.
“Such a shocking tragedy. Zee, I’m so sorry for your loss. Will they ever find those responsible for this terrible deed?”
“The sheriff has gathered evidence, but we believe the Pinkertons are at fault. Those of us who stood with the South are given little in the way of fair treatment.”
My words could have come straight from Jesse, but they described precisely how I felt.
It came as no surprise when the sheriff finally announced that Pinkerton detectives were indeed responsible for the raid, but when it came to light that they’d been helped by Zerelda’s neighbor, Dan Askew, my fury matched Zerelda’s. Dan had allowed the detectives to use his home as an operating base in the hunt for Frank and Jesse, all the while pretending to be our friend.
Alan Pinkerton claimed the outcome of the raid was unintended. Some people sided with the detectives, but most were appalled and outraged against them. Yet regardless of anyone’s opinion over where the blame laid, on one point everyone agreed. If Jesse and Frank caught up with the men involved first, there’d be hell to pay.
A week later, Zerelda seemed able enough to function without my help, and I bought a train ticket for home. The horrors I’d seen had drained me, and for my baby’s sake, I needed the solace of rest. Not long after my return, a newspaper headline trumpeted a new death. Dan Askew had been found shot dead in his own backyard. The reporter quoted Zerelda, who’d been asked who she thought might have killed her neighbor. She responded in a fashion more cryptic than usual.
“Dan made a lot of enemies during the war. Any one of them could have come after him.”
I shed no tears over Dan Askew and his treachery, and already knew what Jesse would say.
An eye for an eye.