Indianola
January 1876
Eagle returned before Christmas and proudly announced at the supper table that he had fulfilled his long-planned promise to purchase land in Washington County. When he added that the land belonged to Albert Waters, a planter whose wife had died, Amelia could barely control the tremble running through her body. She had carried the secret for so long that she feared Al was only a figment of her imagination––that he existed only in her dreams, that the passion he had aroused in her so long ago was wishful thinking of a woman denied physical love.
Even with the excitement of the holidays and the joy of decorating the giant cedar, Amelia moved into her private world. The cyclone of activity whirled unnoticed around her.
That night, when the caroling ended, she hurried up the back stairs to her room that opened onto the side porch. Wrapping a shawl around her nightgown, she eased into her rocking chair––her comfort place that was supposed to be where she nursed their baby Albert. She had moved it to Stein House before the storm, and mothers had used it to comfort their frightened children.
She watched stars peep through the ever-darkening sky, reflecting like fairy lights in the bay waters. Down the coast, a few ships with tiny lights yellowing the portholes bobbed at anchor waiting for space to dock at the new piers jutting into the bay. She wondered if a young couple, as she and Al had been, huddled on one of the decks wanting to touch, feeling every breath of the other.
After New Year’s, Helga’s daughter and grandchildren sailed back to New York. Eagle, no longer being the opa entertaining his gleeful followers, began plans for the trip to sign all the land sale documents. He gathered equipment and furniture for the farmhouse. Helga, silently grieving over the departure of her family, handled her pain in her usual way––she threw herself into a major cleaning of Stein House.
Amelia mopped the broad front porch while the waves lapped listlessly against the shell beach without a hint of the gnawing fury hidden in the translucent water. The cutting north wind blowing across the bay tickled at hair curling against the sweat on her face and creasing down her back. From this perch high above the shore, she could see the bay stretching toward the Gulf of Mexico, the route she had longed to follow that would take her back to Al.
The storm had changed everything. Dr. Stein was dead. His office and their upstairs quarters—wiped away—erased like their empty marriage. As she’d done since she convinced Helga to leave Germany and bring her family to Texas, Amelia worked alongside her sister. They cooked, served boarders, washed, and cleaned––keeping Stein House functioning despite all the wind and water damage the big building had endured. Now she imaged leaving it all, abandoning her sister as she’d done so long ago when she sailed from Germany for her Texas adventure.
She had to find out if Al remembered; if the bond was still there. But she couldn’t ask Eagle to let her go along as if it were a pleasant afternoon buggy ride. It was a long trip, at least a week of hard days in Eagle’s freight wagon.
The sweat finally chilled her body. Turning, she hurried along the center hall’s fresh-scrubbed floors listening to the brisk tapping of Helga’s feet upstairs. She was replacing sheets they had washed that morning. Eagle’s hammer pounded new boards into the wrecked fence––one of his final repairs.
She moved into the kitchen to the sweet smell of bread baking and a black kettle of potato soup heating on the iron stove. A few boarders would come in for lunch, and before they started serving, Helga and Eagle would find a way to touch each other—a stroke along Helga’s back or her fingers reaching to Eagle’s cheek. Amelia always saw the gestures and turned away, not for their privacy, but to ease her longing.
If she left, if she ran off chasing her long-ago lover, how would Helga manage this big house? Helga’s children were all gone except for Hermie who stayed busy running his mercantile store. Eagle would soon be off again hauling freight to some far-off town. The storm had taken Joseph, the old black man who knew how to repair everything. He had worked for years helping Helga, had even refused to leave her when escalating hate before the war threatened his safety.
What would she tell her sister? After all, Helga had trusted her, had sailed on to Indianola even after watching her husband drown––a drunk showing off for German emigrants as their ship was about to sail for Texas. The plan had been for Max to operate Dr. Stein’s mercantile store and Helga to run Stein House. She still came, believing that despite Max’s death, Dr. Stein would fulfill his promise. Helga had built Stein House into a respected haven that became a refuge for so many during the storm.
What if Al had forgotten her? She had to know if the only man who had ever desired her body would still love her. She moved between believing she had lost her mind, to thinking she was a fool, to planning how she would ask to accompany Eagle.
After supper, Amelia retreated upstairs and pulled her rocker onto the porch. Startled, she looked up to see Helga dragging one of the chairs around the back corner. “Why aren’t you in bed?” She watched her sister’s combed-out braids, fan-like wings away from her shoulders.
“That’s my question for you, baby sister. You have moved about this house like a ghost, even when you’re working, you don’t look like you’re here.” Helga folded her long, lean body into the chair, her knees pressed against Amelia’s. Pulling her heavy shawl around her nightgown, she reached for Amelia’s hands. “I thought you were missing Dr. Stein during the holidays. It’s something else, isn’t it?”
Dear God, don’t let me lose my sister. Amelia sucked in the night air. “No, I do not miss Joseph Stein. He was my husband in name only.” And then she couldn’t stop herself––a wild thing unbridled. “I took a lover. Years ago, on a New Orleans buying trip. His name is Al Waters. Eagle just purchased his land.”
Helga fell onto her knees, pulled Amelia into an embrace. “You carried this secret all this time?”
“At the beginning of my marriage, I told myself that at least Dr. Stein wasn’t a drunk like your Max. The community respected him. Then after Max drowned and you came on to Indianola alone, I felt like a whiner. You had to run Stein House and raise all four children. And then little Anna died. You never let any of it drag you down.”
Helga pulled her sobbing sister into her arms and rocked her. “I found Eagle. He became my strength.” She whispered, “and my lover.”
“I’ve been so jealous of you two.” Amelia laughed, wiped at the tears chilling her cheeks. “Al made me know about physical love. Without that short time with him, I would still be a maiden wondering what made me so unappealing.”
“A maiden? What was wrong with Dr. Stein? Even poor, drunken Max was a good lover.”
“Joseph Stein loved men.”
Helga drew back, her mouth forming a silent O. “God save us. How did you stand it?”
“I didn’t know. When I found out, it was too late to go to Al. He had married, sort of a business arrangement with his brother’s widow. A long story.”
“Didn’t you want to kill Dr. Stein? Pretending to be married to you? And he wanted a man?”
Amelia stared at the swaying branches of the salt cedars Helga had planted all around the house. They were still standing, still offering shade after the storm bent them almost double. “I looked at all the good he did in Indianola. Another secret we shared was that Dr. Stein bought and freed most of the slaves that worked on our docks.”
“Forget all the ways to forgive that man. You’ve got to go to Al.”
“He may not even remember. I’ve been harboring those memories because I lived such a sterile life.”
“Let’s keep this between us. I don’t think Eagle needs to know. If you decide to go, we’ll tell him you want to farm again.” Helga snickered. “Or something like that.”
“I’ve been planning how to approach him––”
“Do it. Don’t tell me. I might not be able to pretend.”
Amelia watched for an opportunity to speak to Eagle. He was taking an extra bed apart when she offered to help carry it to the wagon. “I know you’re hoping that Helga will give up this back-breaking work running Stein House.” Could he tell that her heart was pounding, so that even in the chilly wind off the bay, she was suddenly blazing hot and needed to wipe the moisture off her forehead?
“Stein House has been a good investment for you and Dr. Stein.” Eagle shoved the bed to the front of the wagon and turned to face Amelia. “But I’m convinced Indianola’s going to get hit with another storm. I know Stein had this boarding house built stronger than any on the coast, but I’ve been under it and on top of it. The house can’t stand another beating like it took in September. I’m sure Stein would agree if he were still here.”
He isn’t alive. I no longer have to pretend. “Do you think we could convince Helga to move to the farm if I go there first, get it going, and keep letting her know how wonderful it is?”
Eagle’s mouth opened slightly, and he bent toward Amelia. “Are you willing to go up there? All by yourself?”
“I was responsible for Helga and her family leaving Germany. I kept begging her, even convinced Dr. Stein to build this boarding house so that she would have an income.” Amelia shrugged, tried to keep her voice steady. “Perhaps I can convince her to emigrate again.”
Eagle blew a silent whistle, and his shoulders sagged. “I’ll tell her that I think you want to move to the country. Will she believe me?” He shook his head. “I’m having trouble believing it. I thought you missed all the jangling noise of your downtown quarters.”
Hold your tongue. Eagle doesn’t need to know. “Let’s see what Helga says.” She turned back to the house before Eagle could see the joy bubbling up so fast that she wanted to shout.
That evening while Amelia washed supper dishes, Eagle came into the kitchen with Helga at his side and invited Amelia to accompany him to the farm. As though there had never been a prior discussion, she feigned surprise. “I’d love to go. I’ve only stayed on this windy, drab coast because of Dr. Stein.” She felt a tinge of guilt at seeing the tight smile on Helga’s lips, trying to be part of the pretense. “We’re farm girls. I can’t wait to get my hands in rich garden soil instead of this shell-encrusted clay.”
Helga wrapped Amelia in a warm embrace. “Well then, sister. We better start gathering what you’ll need in that little farmhouse.”
Amelia stared straight ahead, beyond the rumps of the two mules pulling Eagle’s freight wagon onto the road leading out of Indianola. She had been a young girl filled with excitement when she left her family to come to Texas. Now over thirty years later, she was heading again into the unknown filled with a different kind of excitement. She could feel Helga’s eyes following the wagon loaded with furniture and farm equipment. If she looked back, if she waved, she’d have to see the lost expression on her sister’s face, the sadness at watching Amelia leave her yet again.
Taking a deep breath, she turned and offered one quick wave before she closed her eyes to the rush of guilt. She had longed for Helga and the children to emigrate to Texas. She had believed that having her family with her would be the cure that would finally ease the ache of an empty marriage. Despite the joy of their presence and watching the children grow into adults, it had not been enough.
The gravel road made a sharp turn away from the coast and began a slow ascent between clumps of cactus, green despite the calendar saying it was the dead of winter.
With their backs to the chill of steady wind off the bay and the sun arcing higher, Amelia shook her braids out of the cape’s hood. Eagle shed his coarse jacket and tossed it behind the wagon bench. “If the weather stays like this, we can make it to the farm in six days.”
Eagle shoved on up the road almost to Victoria before darkness forced him to pull into an oak grove. He built a fire and began feeding and brushing the mules. Amelia welcomed the warmth of the flames while she heated beans and fried strips of beef. The chill of the night air increased the ache brought on by the pounding her body had taken on the wagon seat. She wondered if Eagle welcomed wrapping in his bedroll next to the fire as much as she did.
Thunder and a stiff breeze roused them before light. “No sense in building a fire with a storm coming.” Eagle stowed his bedroll and dug out mustard-colored slickers for both of them to pull over their coats. While he hitched the mules, Amelia filled biscuits with some of the smokehouse ham that she and Helga had packed. They rode into rain blowing in sheets, the food forgotten.
“If this storm keeps up, we’ll have to wait for the ferry to cross the Lavaca,” Eagle shouted over the roar of the wind.
The light was slow to come, gradually revealing the set of Eagle’s jaw, his chin stretched forward like a man straining to move ahead. “I know you’re eager to get back home,” she said.
“I get jumpy since that storm. I don’t want Helga to ever be alone in another disaster.”
If you only knew how I’ve longed for a love like yours and my sister’s. “She knew you’d return as fast as you could. She kept reminding us as we rationed every morsel that you’d be coming, and you’d be bringing food and water.”
The rain stopped, but clouds hung low, and the mules snorted foggy breaths as they kept a steady, grinding pace. On the third day, when they reached the Lavaca River, it was running too fast, bubbling in swirling currents of tree limbs and murky water. The ferry operator, a wizened man who also owned the trading post perched high on the river bank, happily charged two bits each to fill their tins with acrid coffee.
By the time the river had calmed enough to cross, the moon had climbed high, opening the sky for a night of cold.
The bedroll felt like an ice blanket until she scooted so deep that her head was covered. Too soon she heard Eagle harnessing the mules.
Obviously delighting in his position of authority, the ferry operator hitched his drooping britches and doubled his price. “I ain’t never sure just how good that anchor rope is. It may let go and wash my ferry all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. Man’s got to protect his interest.”
Eagle doled out the silver dollars and without another word to the grinning ferryman, eased forward on the wagon brake. Amelia held her breath, gripping the seat as the nervous mules dug in their feet and lumbered down the muddy slope and onto the flatboat.
Over the sound of the roaring current and the clumping of the mule’s uneasy steps onto the ferry, Eagle shouted. “If this wagon tips and we go under, let yourself float with the current. Don’t fight going downstream. Concentrate on swimming toward the far bank. That’ll get you there without wearing you out.”
Amelia nodded, too frightened to speak and afraid if she opened her mouth it would be a scream. Dear God, dear God! She watched the guide rope hold taunt and the water break in foaming waves against the flatboat. She dared not look over the edge of the wagon, fearing that her weight would tip the thing.
Eagle rose, his legs spread in a squat, his knees anchored against the front of the wagon as he held the reins, keeping up a chatter to the mules. Rivulets of water rushed across the wood floor of the ferry, washing around the mules’ hooves. Their withers twitched, but they obeyed the steady rhythm of Eagle’s voice.
The ferryman tossed a rope to a piling on the shore, and the boat lurched against the bank and shuddered to a halt.
“Bring ‘er out of there.” The man shouted and stepped aside as the mules stamped onto the steep bank, jerking the wagon up to high ground.
Amelia relaxed, limp as a wet sheet.
Eagle pushed on all day until darkness blanketed the forest. “We can’t cross the creeks through here without light.” He pulled into a narrow opening in the trees.
Amelia left the wagon immediately and headed into the woods to relieve herself.
Eagle called over his shoulder. “You need to tell me when to stop. Teamsters have bladders big as a hogshead.”
The fire flamed, warm and welcoming, and she was glad he did not want to wait for her to cook the food. They gnawed silently on sausage and hard slices of bread before crawling into bedrolls as near as they could get to the flames.
Despite the endless days, howling wolves at night, and rains that brought a penetrating cold, the trip began to feel like a homecoming. The fields and hillsides—although stripped for winter—felt welcoming, the soil as loamy as the land in Germany.
Eagle was unrelenting in his steady push, determined to make the trip in six days. Near noon on day six, he indicated with his beard-stubbled chin. “There it is.” The road turned to parallel a railroad track leading toward a scattering of small houses all sending streams of smoke into the gray air of Brenham.
Amelia reached inside her hood to touch braids that had not been brushed out in six days, and her fingers slipped over lips raw from facing a steady north wind.
Staring straight ahead, Eagle said, “We’ll stop at Al’s store. Cora probably has a place where you can wash up.”
“Cora?”
“She and Wally run the place. If you want to know anything about Brenham or the people, Cora’s the town crier. She’ll know where to find Al. I hope he isn’t in Independence. That’s an extra twenty-mile round trip.”
“When I operated Stein Mercantile, did you think I was the local gossip?” Amelia meant it to sound like a tease, but just the same, she wondered if she had left that impression.
Eagle grinned, his eyes sparkling behind his faded red whiskers. “I’d forgotten you ran that store. That was before Helga and the children arrived. Jackson was a little fellow. We stopped in there to get the pralines you kept in that barrel. Jackson reminded me the minute we pulled into Indianola that your store was where we could find those sugary candies.”
Amelia’s heart ached every time she thought of Jackson. Eagle and his son had shared a precious relationship. The army’s letter had ripped a hole in Eagle that even Helga’s love couldn’t mend. He had tried to escape his agony by volunteering for the Confederacy and hauling cotton across the Wild Horse Desert to Mexico. He had stayed gone until the end of the war and had come home to grieve all over again.
“Your store sold beautiful furniture and fancier clothing than I could afford,” Eagle said.
She wanted to tell him that was how she had met Al. That he was the man who escorted her all over New Orleans, introduced her to the merchants who sold her all the stylish clothing and elegant furniture. She wanted to tell him that the New Orleans buying trip was the best time of her life. “Dr. Stein sold the store about the time Helga and the children arrived. I stopped going there altogether.” She did not add that the store was where her husband mixed his business and pleasure. The storm had raged across Indianola and ripped to splinters the building and her husband and his lover who were in its upstairs apartment.
The wagon turned the corner, clattered over the railroad tracks and moved between handsome two-story buildings. Eagle pointed ahead. “See that two-story, brick building on the other side of the courthouse? That’s Water’s Mercantile taking up almost all the block. The man’s much more interested in his stores than his farm. Cora said his son’s gone to Harvard to study medicine. She thinks the boy will never be interested in the farm. That’s why he’s selling almost half of his place.”
A son? Al has a son? Amelia let the news sink in. She had not allowed herself to think of Al and Samantha having a child. She wanted to believe he had continued to love her, that he somehow knew about their baby. Albert Anton Stein would have been twenty-five, conceived when his parents were the same age. She clutched her belly and remembered the beautiful boy so still against her breast.
Eagle pulled the wagon up to the raised walk. An upstairs gallery shaded the porch, and gleaming glass windows covered the front of the store. Eagle leaped to the ground without the slightest hint of stiffness.
Amelia grabbed a post and stepped from the wagon bed onto the porch just as the front doors slammed open and a jolly-looking fat man bellowed. “If it’s not Eagle Stone, back here to close that land deal.”
Eagle sprang to the porch and gripped hands with the man. A woman of almost equal girth stepped out the door, wiping her hands on a white bib apron. She beamed at Eagle and then cut her eyes toward Amelia.
Eagle made the introductions, and Amelia felt swooped into Cora’s comforting arms. “Come in where it’s warm. My goodness, you must be exhausted.”
Amelia trembled as the scent of New Orleans shop spices and soaps and lotions made Al feel so near that she began looking for him in the handsome interior. Her gaze took in the beamed ceiling high above the furniture, the vibrant hues of fabric, and the rounded barrels of coffee.
“You’ll feel much better after you freshen up.” Cora laid her soft hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “Come to the back where I reserve a place for our women customers to have privacy.”
While Amelia gazed at the bustles and corsets and neatly folded bloomers, Cora hustled in with a pan of warm water and a brush and comb. “You take your time. This cup of tea will be just what you need.” She tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “You’re so fair. Are you German?”
“Why, yes. I emigrated in 1845. Eight years later, I sent for my sister and her family.”
Cora’s nose pinched ever so slightly. “Eagle’s not German. His hair looks like it used to be red. Wally and I decided he’s probably Irish stock. That’s what we are, Irish.” She folded her sausage-size fingers together, prayer-like.
“I don’t know Eagle’s heritage. Why don’t you ask him?”
“Oh, I’m just curious. Most of the Germans are buying small pieces of land west of here.” She shrugged again. “They don’t have the money to buy such big spreads.”
Amelia watched Cora disappear past the curtain, then turned to the mirror. Bless the dear woman. I look like a farmhand already. She stared at her face, framed in curls that looked like carded wool. She washed, brushed her hair, and worked it into one long braid.
She stepped from behind the curtain as Al entered the front door. Framed in the light, he looked thin, gripped a cane and moved with a slight limp. What had crippled him? He shook Eagle’s hand, and his smile made his eye crinkle and form small creases in his cheeks. She heard Eagle say, “Meet Amelia, my sister-in-law.”
She felt Al’s gaze pulling her to him from across the tables of ribbons and laces. She watched him walk toward her, his cane set aside, and his hand extended. He folded her hand into both of his, and his eyes rimmed red. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
Her heart, pounding into her throat, made her voice a whisper. “I’m glad to be here.”
As Al reached for her, he heard Eagle saying that Amelia insisted on running the farm. He said something about how tough she was on the trip. “She didn’t complain one time about the rough ride.” Al nodded in response to Eagle’s words, but all he could think of was her hand clutching his. Her hair, a creamy soft color now, still wanted to curl out of her braids. Her eyes, blue as sapphire, blinked back tears as her lips parted in a secret smile.
Eagle bounded across the room and placed his hand on Al’s shoulder. “I figured if I caught you here, I could finish paying you. Close the deal before we head to the farm.”
“Oh, of course.” He slowly released Amelia’s hand. “Let’s go to the courthouse.” He turned to leave, then stopped, and looked back to look at her once again.
As she watched him go out the door, she held onto the table of ribbons and lace trying to steady herself, trying to make her breath come naturally. He knew her; he touched her. She could hear Cora chattering about the war, and they almost lost him. What a time he has had with a dead wife and his son going off to Harvard. She tried to nod, tried to listen, but all she could think about was the feel of his hand.
It felt like an eternity before they saw the men smiling as they walked back across the street from the courthouse. “I’ve wrapped a fresh loaf of bread and the rest of my cake for your supper tonight. Don’t let those men talk you into cooking a big spread.”
“You’ve been so kind. Please come for a visit very soon.”
“Oh, my dear. We work every day, even on Sunday afternoons. You must come with Al the next time he picks up supplies for Independence. We can have a little chat. And one more thing. I know Al won’t mind if I send you home with a bar of this Johann Heínrich Keller soap. It’s the most popular item in our store.”
Amelia clutched the soap to her chest. He’s still stocking the soap we used. He kept reassuring me that Violet would not come in and find us together in his tub. “I will feel like a grand lady tonight.”
She raised her hand in a slow wave to let Al know she saw him looking at her through the store window. Then he turned and used his cane to boost himself into a handsome black carriage, pulled by a sleek little red horse. She wished for a way to ride with him, to hear him say the words that she felt as he gripped her hand. Waiting was growing almost impossible.
She thanked Cora profusely for her welcome and the lovely gifts. She inched toward the door and called to Eagle that she was coming right along.
Eagle snapped the reins, and the mules jerked forward behind Al’s carriage with an eagerness that matched Amelia’s. “Al seems like a perfect gentleman. I think he’ll help you anytime you need him.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and let her mind race forward to seeing him again, to feeling his touch. “Look at the thick lines of rose bushes separating the fields on these hillsides. It reminds me of home.”
Eagle looked at her from beneath his drooping felt hat. “In South Texas, they’re using a smooth wire to keep herds from roaming off. Our farm still has fences made of bois d’ arc trees planted tight as ticks.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
Eagle grinned, “Don’t know if I’ve ever seen you so excited.”
That’s the truth. Amelia coiled her fingers tight against her waist to hold in her excitement.
The sun was slipping through the trees as they came around a bend, and Eagle pointed down the road. “Soon as we pass this pecan orchard, our land starts on the other side. Al’s keeping the land on the east side of the road. That little white building that looks like a church is their school. The big house is beyond.”
It loomed large, bleached white in the late-day sun. She counted six square columns extending two stories. Windows, tall enough to walk through, opened all around the house onto galleries. A broad staircase swept down from the second level to the drive lined with red cedars curving off the road.
“It looks like the plantations along the Mississippi River.”
“You’ve been to Louisiana?” Eagle sounded surprised.
I would love to tell you about that trip. Tell you about the most intense and the happiest time of my life. “I made a buying trip once to New Orleans for our mercantile store.”
Eagle drove on past the mansion and pointed to his left. “There’s our farmhouse across the road. Not impressive, but it’ll do until we get Helga up here.”
Amelia kept her fingertips to her lips. “It’s perfect.”