Away off southeast, Mel could hear the muted throbbing that he now recognized as cannon fire. Not over towards his place, and not near Palestine, either. Farther away than that, maybe down as far south as Sweet Springs. From the sound of things, those Arkansas boys were being pushed back home where they belonged.
Except for Major Elliott, he had no liking for any of them, nor any sympathy for the lives they had squandered on their damned fool errand north. It would have made more sense to Mel if they had been defending their own towns and farms and kin, but that didn’t seem to be how this fight worked. Even Elliott, who clearly had plenty of sense and a good heart, seemed kind of confused by the whole thing.
Mel didn’t make much better time today on his way back from Meat Holler to the Adderly farm than he had the day before with Rochelle and Becky in tow. He knew he was about used up physically and mentally. More than once he had to pause and grab ahold of some nearby tree while he fought off a wave of dizziness and sorted out the right direction in his head. For days now he had reached down inside himself over and over to find just a little more strength and resolve to push on. But the bucket had finally hit dry rock bottom. The well was empty.
At one point he came to curled up on the ground, not even aware that he had passed out, or fallen to sleep on his feet, or whatever had happened. Laying there for a few minutes, he remembered the dream that his awakening had interrupted. He was back in the cave watching that sad old man hobbling and stumbling, desperate to save what Mel knew at that moment had been a wasted and worthless life. Mel raised his gun and thumbed the hammer back. It was an easy shot. But then the old man was his own daddy, moaning in pain, blood staining the back of overalls, falling down and struggling back up, running desperately for the peace and darkness of the woods. Mel’s aim never wavered.
He had been jolted awake by that terrible, impossible decision whether or not to pull the trigger.
For a moment he felt like he might cry, which of course was a silly and weak thing for a grown man to do. He fought back the tightness in his throat and the blurriness in his eyes, rolled over onto his hands and knees, and rose to his feet. His head still swam, but looking around he knew where he was and what direction to go. It was only a little bit farther.
Leaving the woods on the hill above the Adderly farm, the whole place looked deserted. He figured Becky had done what he told her and was hiding out someplace close by with her mother and sister.
It wasn’t till he was closer that he saw the still form in the shade of the cottonwoods that sheltered the Adderly family cemetery. And he had to walk closer still before he made out that the form was dressed in white.
At first Mel thought Becky might have left her unconscious sister there, propped up against a tree, while she went off to forage for food. But then, as he approached, he saw Rochelle’s head turn slowly toward him.
“So you’re back with us again,” Mel said, smiling, kneeling beside her, and taking her hand. “That sure is a fine thing.”
For a moment Rochelle just looked at him, and Mel had the uncomfortable feeling that she was trying to sort out who he was. Her face was still badly bruised, but the bruises were fading from black to shades of blue and green, and some of the swelling was gone. She still had the rag wrapped around her head, and the wound had bled through. Her hand lay limp, cold, and unresponsive in his.
“Mel,” Rochelle said quietly. “Mel Carroll. Becky told me you had come for us, but I don’t remember.”
“It’s ’cause you were knocked out the whole time I was here,” Mel explained. “Things will come back to you.”
“She told me about Daddy, too,” Rochelle said. “She left me here to say good-bye to him. She and Mama are off across the river picking berries. And I heard a shot a while ago, so maybe she kicked up a rabbit.”
Mel released her hand and she hid it in the folds of her dress. He sat down cross-legged in the dirt facing her, not really sure what to say. He watched as Rochelle’s eyes closed for several long seconds, then opened again and settled on him.
“I said a prayer for Daddy. Or with him, or something like that. It’s hard to believe he’s laying dead right there under that dirt.”
“I know. I felt the same when we buried Mother. But you get used to it.”
“Nothing ain’t the same now. Everything’s changed. The farm’s gone like it wasn’t never here. Daddy’s dead in his grave, and Ham and Jaipeth are off Lord knows where. Even Mama ain’t right in the head.”
Her eyes swept the empty expanse in front of her that had, just days before, been their family’s well-tended farm. Her gaze settled on the rows and rows of graves in what had been Ezekiel Adderly’s south pasture. Mel figured they should have planted their dead in plowed ground where the digging was easier.
“For all I know, my own brother Ham might be down there among them,” Rochelle mused.
“Maybe not,” Mel said. “Maybe he left with them, and he’ll find his way home again after all this is done.” His words sounded weak even to him.
“It’ll be hard to sleep at night, thinking about all them ghosts floating around lost in the dark. It’s frightful, but sad too. All them souls, scared and lonely, prob’ly not even knowing what happened to them. And maybe Ham amongst them.”
“They’ll move on, by and by. It’s the same at my place. Plenty of men died there, and they put them in the ground in long rows all over my fields and pastures. They didn’t plant them none too deep, either. I guess I’ll be plowing up bones from now to doomsday.”
Rochelle was quiet for a time, then she turned her gaze back to Mel and asked, “So what now?”
“I figured to take the three of you back to my place,” Mel said. “It’s not much better there, but I’ve still got a piece of a cabin standing till I can build something better. My mule should be someplace close about, and my stock is out in the woods. Either I’ll herd them back or hunt them for meat. We’ll get by.”
Mel heard a distant call and turned his head toward the Little Bold River nearby. In the open grassy meadow on the other side he saw Becky and her mother walking in their direction. Becky lifted up the hare she was carrying and waved it in a sign of triumph. Henrietta Adderly was holding up the corners of her apron, which bulged with one sort of victuals or another.
“Once we get there, we need to find a preacher first thing, Mel,” Rochelle said. “It’s like Daddy said. We had our fun at the dance, and now it’s time to pay the fiddler.”
“I came all this way with nothing but that on my mind, Rochelle,” Mel said. It felt good to get that said. He smiled at her, feeling the certainty of his words, and that felt good too.
“I’ve been sitting here wondering why all this happened. Do you have any notion of what this was all for, Mel?”
“Nope, it beats the hell out of me, Rochelle.”
She turned her head slowly toward him, and her gaze was steady. The look in her eyes changed from sadness to something else.
“I know you’ve been living for a long time alone, Melvin Carroll, and you’ve seen some rough times lately. But now you’ll be around Christian women again on a regular basis,” she said. “You’re going to have to save that kind of language for the barn and the fields. I won’t abide it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mel said without hardly thinking. In all his pondering of what married life might be like, he had never considered the possibility of living under one roof with three righteous women. He wondered what he had gotten himself into.