Blood Lands

A week after Baines Meredith had left Umberton, a Union army major, accompanied by a Free Kansas Militia officer and three of his militiamen, rode up to the hitch rail out front of Constance Whirly’s boardinghouse and stepped down. From the window both Constance and Julie stood watching. Constance could feel the young woman’s grip tighten on her hand as the men walked up to the front door.

“Don’t you worry,” said Constance, patting her nervous hand. “You tell them whatever you’re comfortable telling and get it over with.” She led Julie beside her to the front door.

“No! I can’t!” Julie said. “You saw how long it took for the army to even send someone! And you see who’s riding with him! For all I know these could be the very ones who did all this!”

Constance stopped and searched her eyes for a moment, then said, “Then tell the major just enough to send him down the road. There’s no denying that your father and Shepherd Watson are dead. . . . So are the Shawlers. You’ll have to tell the army something, or else you’ll be in the wrong.”

“I know,” said Julie, with a troubled expression. “I’ll tell him what the killers told me, that I better keep my mouth shut and clear out of here. He’ll just have to understand.” She gave Constance a troubled look. “So will the killers, until I’m well enough to travel.”

“Whatever you feel is best, child,” said Constance Whirly, helping Julie along, realizing the young woman’s dilemma. “Let’s get you seated in the parlor. I’ll see them in.”

In the small parlor Julie eased down onto a cushion-backed chair, carefully keeping her weight shifted away from her healing ribs. She tried to compose herself as she heard voices at the open door, followed by the sound of the door closing and footsteps across the wooden floor coming toward her.

But in spite of her efforts she knew hadn’t been able to hide the fear in her eyes when Constance led the four men into the parlor. “Miss Julie, this is Major Gerrard. He’s brought along four members of the Free Kansas Militia.” Gesturing politely with her hand, she said to the major, “Major Gerrard, this is Miss Julie Wilder, the late Colonel Bertrim Wilder’s daughter.”

Julie saw only kindness and concern in the major’s eyes as he stepped forward with a slight bow, his cavalry hat tucked into the crook of his arm and said, “Miss Wilder, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about the colonel’s and Shepherd Watson’s death.” He reached down, chivalrously took Julie’s hand for a second, then released it.

“Thank you, Major Gerrard,” said Julie, hoping she’d managed to keep any traces of fear or unsteadiness out of her voice. She breathed a bit easier, at least for that moment. But when the major turned and introduced the three men to her, she knew they had to see the shock, the fear and the desperation in her dark eyes.

“This is Captain Ruddell Plantz, of the Free Kansas Militia,” said the major, sweeping a hand toward Plantz.

“An honor, ma’am, in spite of the circumstances,” said Plantz, giving what Julie thought to be a smug grin and a short bow at the waist. Plantz made no effort to step forward and take her hand, something that Julie was thankful for as her eyes moved away from the indiscernible look on his face. Turning to the other three men Plantz said, “Please allow me to introduce Parson Preston Oates, and Privates Kiley and Peerly.”

“Ma’am,” said the parson, speaking for the three of them. The men made short bows, of courtesy without moving toward her. But Julie didn’t hear the parson’s voice; she hardly saw his lips move. Instead she sat stunned, staring at the three but hardly aware of them being in the room. A moment earlier, her eyes had gone to Plantz’s boots as she’d looked away from his face. And there her gaze had riveted for just a second on the tiny winged horses engraved on his Mexican spurs. She’d had to force her eyes away in order to recapture her breath.

Seeing the tense silence set in, Major Gerrard took control. “Mr. Baines Meredith reported what happened, and I must say we were all shocked at his implication toward our Free Kansas Militia. That is why I insisted that Captain Plantz and some of his men join me here this morning.”

“Implication?” said Constance, giving Plantz and his men a harsh stare, a hand planted firmly on her hip. “It was the work of the Free Kansas Militia, plain and simple.”

“Please, Mrs. Whirly,” said the major in a conciliatory tone, “let’s allow the young lady to tell us what she knows.”

Julie felt all eyes on her. She had barely recovered from the shock of seeing Plantz’s silver Mexican spurs. Did he realize she might recognize the spurs if he wore them here, she managed to ask herself. Or was he wearing the spurs here simply as a test, to see if she would dare say anything? “I—I didn’t see anyone’s face,” she said grudgingly, not about to mention the spurs or make any accusations against Ruddell Plantz.

“But according to Baines Meredith, you and your father found a Free Kansas Militiaman chasing the Shawler boy,” said the major. “Didn’t you get a look at his face?”

“But he was wearing a militiaman’s uniform?” the major prodded. “The same type of uniform these four men are wearing?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean,” said Julie. “I can’t attest to it in a formal statement.” As she said the words she raised her eyes and looked at Plantz, letting him know that she wanted no trouble with him and his men.

“I see,” said the major, rubbing his bearded chin in contemplation. Noting her reluctance even to discuss what had happened, he asked, “Do you wish to file a statement of any sort, to assist us in finding the persons who killed your father, Shep Watson and the Shawler family?”

“There’s nothing I can tell you that would help you find the Shawler family’s killers.” Julie faced the major as she spoke. “It was still early morning dark when the men who assaulted me brought my father and Shep Watson to the house and dropped them in the dirt.”

“So you did not witness your father or Shep Watson’s death firsthand?” the major asked. “For all you know those men might have found the two bodies along the trail and brought them home?”

“That’s right, for all I know,” said Julie with resolve, seeing that the law would have been of little benefit to her even had she chosen to confide in them and seek their help. “My pa is dead. Nothing is going to change that,” she said, again letting herself face Plantz long enough to see to it he got her message. “I took a beating, but I’m alive and getting over it. All I want is to get out of here and go live in peace—try to forget this ever happened.”

“I understand,” said the major, “and I sympathize with you. But a terrible crime has been committed, and according to Mr. Meredith, it involved the Free Kansas Militia—”

“If I can say something here, Major,” said Plantz, cutting in. “As ashamed as I am to admit this, I’m afraid our militia has a share of bad apples.” He smiled at Julie as he continued. “A scoundrel by the name of Goff Aimes has only recently proven himself unworthy of wearing our uniform. He has mysteriously disappeared, but . . .” He let his words trail.

Plantz continued. “The fact is, it might very well have been him and some other ne’er-do-wells who committed these crimes. If that’s the case, I want the young lady here to feel confident that as soon as this man can be found, if he had anything to do with this, he will be punished most severely.”

“There then,” said the major, looking at Julie, “I hope that is of some consolation to you, Miss Wilder. This matter will not go unattended. It will be pursued until we have caught the guilty parties.”

Seeing the same smug grin on the other three faces, Julie did not respond. Instead she stared back down at the floor and felt Constance’s hand rest on her shoulder as the older woman stepped over beside her.

“Gentlemen, this poor woman is still healing, and I’m afraid it’s too upsetting for her to talk about right now. You heard her. She just wants to leave here and get on about her life.”

Knowing he had won, Plantz took a step forward toward Julie and said to Major Gerrard, “Since a militiaman might have been a party to this, Major, I feel responsible for looking after this young lady’s well-being as long as she’s in Umberton. That is, provided the army has no objections?”

“I see no problem with you making such an offer, Captain Plantz,” the major said. “Of course it’s up to Miss Wilder whether or not—”

“No! Please!” Julie said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as desperate and frightened as she felt at the idea of having these men around her.

But both her words and the words of the major fell lost beneath several random blasts of gunfire from the middle of Umberton’s main street. “What the—?” Major Gerrard hurried to an open window, his hand already unsnapping the flap on his army sidearm holster. Plantz and his men followed suit, snatching pistols from their holsters and gathering near the window.

From the street, amid the gunfire, came loud cheers and applause. “It’s over . . . It’s over . . . It’s over!” an old man shouted joyously, as he danced an excited jig in the dirt.

A young boy came racing barefoot past the front yard in a wide circle, leaving a cloud of dust in the air behind him and waving a stick above his head. “Lad! What is all the commotion out there?” Major Gerard shouted.

“It’s over! The war is over! General Lee just surrendered his army!” the boy shouted back without slowing down. “My pa is coming home!”

“Oh my,” the major said with a gasp, turning away from the window, all color gone from his face. “Dear God, can it be so?” he whispered, looking back and forth between Plantz and his men and Constance and Julie. A second passed before the women saw the great welling of tears come to his eyes. “I—I must excuse myself, with your permission of course,” he said to Julie, sounding dumb-struck. “It’s—it’s over.”

“I will have to confirm the information right away, of course,” said Gerrard. He pulled a folded handkerchief from inside his tunic, pressed it to his eyes, recomposed himself and said, “So, I must get back to the camp. There will be an emergency meeting of staff officers, I’m certain.” He paused, then said to Julie, “Rest assured, young lady, this atrocity will not go unattended. With the war over, it may even mean we have more resources to pursue this matter.”

Constance accompanied the major to the front door. The other militiamen followed a couple of feet behind. Peerly and Kiley gave Julie a sharp knowing glance and a faint scornful smile, confirming for her that each of these four had been involved in her assault.

“Yes, wouldn’t that be great?” said Plantz, turning to look back at Julie, who had stopped and stood at the doorway of the parlor. Giving her a guarded glance while the major opened the large oak door, he said, “You can go on to where you’re headed, and know that we’re all back here giving this matter our undivided attention.”

Julie looked away, avoiding Plantz’s grin as he, Peerly and Kiley followed the major and Constance out through the front door onto the porch.

“And, until you do leave here,” the parson said, lingering behind the others and speaking to her in a low sinister voice, “we’ll remain close behind you, watching every move you make, whether you’re awake or asleep, just to be on the safe side.”

“That’s the least we do for our dear old colonel’s daughter,” he grinned slyly and winked. Then his smile vanished and he added in a harsh whisper, “Don’t count yourself more wronged than you are. I know you are nothing but the bastard daughter of an army camp whore.” With a dark, critical stare he stepped past her and out the door.

Julie’s knees went weak beneath her, to think that this man knew so much about her. She clung to the parlor door casing, catching her breath, feeling trapped here by these men, into some sort of cat-and-mouse game. “I’ve got to get out of here,” she whispered desperately to herself, realizing that her ribs, her face and, more important, her spirit still had a lot of healing left to do.

Outside, the revelry had begun to grow, with more gunshots, cheers, wild laughter and music swelling along the dirt street. While Constance stood on the porch and stared off at the growing celebration, Julie made her way to her small room, sat down on the side of her bed and buried her face in her cupped hands. She cried silently, and in doing so she told herself to get all the weeping out of her system. After today, there would be no more tears. Not for herself or for anyone else.