Keeping Secrets

Chapter One-2

Two shots rang at the same time—one from Jeremy’s long gun and one from the porch. Jeremy’s shot struck the bandit in the arm, causing his gun to fall. A third shot rang as the handgun fell, firing when it hit the ground, shooting harmlessly into the air. Urged by the gunshots, the men kicked their horses and rode off at full speed.

Father and son watched until the riders disappeared down the road, then the Hepscott men turned back toward the house. Elizabeth stood on the porch, holding the wooden rail for balance. She had shot the Colt Walker many times before, of course, but never aiming the gun at another person. Although not as accurate as a long gun, it was the most powerful six-shooter you could get. The bullet might travel a hundred yards if the wind was right.

“That old g-gun can’t shoot that far,” Jeremy said. “You sure surprised me, EJ, dang, you sure did.”

He used her family nickname from Elizabeth Jane. First name from her paternal grandmother, second from her mother, Jane Murphy. Her father and brother both had dark hair and eyes, but EJ had her mother’s blue eyes and auburn hair.

Her father nodded. “You surprised me, too.” He wrapped his arms around Elizabeth. She buried her face into the flannel, smelling the acrid sweat and tobacco mixed together. His rough hands patted her back. Tears fell despite her efforts to control them. She knew it made her seem fragile.

“You know you had no business being out on that porch. You could have been killed. Now get yourself inside. Son, come with me.” Peter headed down the porch toward the corral.

EJ wiped her eyes with her apron as she sat, holding the edge of the table, trying to calm her nerves. She finally busied herself with dinner while she thought about Jeremy. He really wanted to join the Army. What to do, what to do? Who knew that the Army didn’t take stutterers? Those mean boys from school sure thought it was fun to tell the recruiter all about Jeremy. Knuckleheads. Ah! He could join in another town, maybe where the townsfolk didn’t know him. But where?

Elizabeth settled into the rocker with arms worn from hours of use, arranged a small shawl on her lap, then opened her book. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger as she read. As the light faded, she tipped the pages toward the hurricane lamp. Finishing the chapter, she took the paper she used as a bookmark and slid it between the pages. The suffragette flyer was tucked in the front cover along with a letter from Aunt Belle. Did Belle attend the suffrage meeting or just pick up the magazine somewhere? She considered the image of the woman in red, white, and blue clothing with a trefoil hat. The slogan above read “taxation without representation.” It was odd that the woman was dressed like a soldier, fighting for the vote.

Aunt Belle had sent the book last month, and Elizabeth still hadn’t finished reading it. There was always so much to do around the ranch, and she was expected to handle all the housework and cooking. She would rather read. With a sigh, she went to check on dinner. The crack of thunder outside startled her. She looked up as the kitchen door opened, surprised to see a heavy rain blow in.

“Thank goodness it’s dry inside,” Peter said, wiping his hair and smiling. “I got this wet just coming from the shed. Evening Shade is finally having that foal.”

He slid his wet overcoat onto a hook and sat. Ringlets of damp hair framed his face, still black despite his age. How old was Father? Elizabeth thought he must be over forty by now. He rubbed his stubble and pulled a small pouch from his shirt pocket. He deftly packed the pipe, and soon, the scent of sweet smoke circled the room. “Smells good in here.”

“Thank you. I made a roast.” She folded the bottom of her apron, opened the oven, and pulled out a large pan. “Jeremy coming soon?”

Peter nodded, relighting his pipe with a second match. “Yes, he’s keeping a check on the birth. The thunderstorm made her drop.” He puffed around teeth clenched on the pipe stem with a third match hovered over the bowl.

An acrid smell wafted from the stove.

“The biscuits!” A small black cloud erupted as Elizabeth opened the oven door. “Dagnabit!”

Peter sighed. “Ladies do not curse.” He tapped his pipe upside down on his plate. “Your mother, rest her soul, never burned a meal in her life.”

She pressed her lips into a thin white line as she yanked the pan out and tipped the charred bread onto a plate. A dark figure burst into the front door, filling the entire frame.

“It’s a colt!” Jeremy shouted. “And just as dark as the night sky, so I’m going to name him B-black Knight.”

He scraped the chair across the floor and sat. Forgetting the towel, he lifted the lid off the still scorching pot.

“Dang.” He shook his hand, muttering. “That’s what I get for not waiting for the b-blessing.”

After the roast and potatoes, Elizabeth served apple pie. She beamed as Jeremy attacked his dessert. Biscuits might be a problem, but a pie, that was her talent.

Peter wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, fingers entwined, deep in thought.

“I just hate a low-down thief, but those raiders are worse. Elizabeth, they were Confederates, looking to take any men they could find,” Peter said. “I sure ain’t going, and I’ll be damned before my son fights for the South. Excuse my French.”

Elizabeth gripped the table. The story she was reading kept the war in her mind, but she’d practically forgotten about the confrontation. Sweat beaded on her face, and the room started to spin. They wanted to take both of them? What would I do alone? And others will come. She was sure of it.

Jeremy broke the silence. “You know it, I belong in the Union Army. I can fight. Get this war over. Shoot some sons of bitches.”

Peter looked at his son. “Language. In the house, no less.” His cheeks flushed. “At least try, son.”

Elizabeth said, “Jeremy, the paper is full of names of men killed. Why do you want to risk that?”

“Because I’m a man. You don’t understand.” Jeremy stared at her.

Her father reached for his pipe, then a package of tobacco. “I’m a man, and I don’t understand.” He struck a match and held it over the bowl, pulling in the smoke. He puffed it out and pulled another draft. “But I won’t stop you.”

“I sure wish no one went to war,” EJ whispered. Her mind popped to the abolitionist poster. Some things you had to fight for. She couldn’t envision women shooting for the vote. Maybe tossing boxes into the ocean, like the Boston Tea Party, but not actual bullets.

Peter slowly nodded. He seemed resigned to the fact his son would soon head to battle. “Your Papaw went to Mexico to fight, but by the time he got there, the war was over.”

They should be so lucky for a second time.

Elizabeth served Jeremy another piece of pie. “What if they don’t have apple pie in the Army?” she teased.

Jeremy sat up straight, a stoic look crossed his face. “A soldier only needs a g-gun.”

Peter laughed. “I suspect they’ll feed you, son. And the biscuits might be better than EJ’s.” Peter turned his pipe and poked at the bowl with his thumb. “Why don’t you check on Black Knight?”

Peter waited until Jeremy put on his coat and headed out the door. He turned his attention to Elizabeth. “He talks about the Army. I wonder what it is that you wish for. Have you given any thought to your future?”

“Me? I’ll just take care of you two.” Elizabeth considered what Jeremy had said about Mr. Olson. “My place is here, with you.”

He pressed his lips together. Finally, he said, “I can keep up with my own self. My years are passing, and I cannot protect you forever. You need a husband.”

“Someday. Really, I have plenty of time.” Elizabeth scowled, a faint scar from a tumble off a horse showing on her chin.

Her father frowned. “I thought your mother did, too. Time has a way of getting away from you.”

“Father, you know full well almost every man in town left on the train. There’s no rush to marry me off.”

“Mr. Olson talked to me. Unlike some of our neighbors, he’s a strong Union man. And he seems to have taken a fancy to you. You might do worse than to marry a man with that much land.”

“You can’t be serious. He’s older than you are. You can’t think that I should marry him.”

“Maybe we should keep your biscuit burning from Mr. Olson or he might reconsider,” Peter said, his eyes twinkling.

“Don’t you think a younger man would be a better choice?” Marriage might be inevitable, yet Elizabeth assumed she’d have some say in who her husband would be. Her stomach clenched.

Peter rubbed his beard stubble. “I know you favor Sean O’Dell, but he may never come home.”

“What makes you think that? Did Jeremy say something?” Elizabeth wondered if this was why her father wanted to discuss her potential marriage without Jeremy around.

“You know he spills the beans on everything. He says Sean kissed you at the train station.” Peter lifted his coffee cup and then set it back down. “I’ll wait to answer Mr. Olson. But you need to consider that you’ll be an old maid before that boy gets home.”

Elizabeth gritted her teeth.

“I think you’d better give this matter some thought.” He drained his cup, and she filled it back up for him.

“You and Jeremy need me.” She tugged at a strand of hair.

“What I think is Jeremy needs to join the Union Army before he ends up fighting on the wrong side.”

“I’m afraid people will make fun of him,” she whispered.

“He should be used to it by now.” Her father put his hands on the table. “Let him go. He’s a man. There’s no life to lose if you aren’t living one to begin with.”

Like a life nursing old Mr. Olson. Or worse, having a bunch of babies and nursing him, too. Ugh. She’d have to think about a better argument against that. “People in Bent Creek know him, and they all treat him badly. He hardly ever stutters unless he’s upset, but they still imitate his speech. I hate them for it. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. The Army won’t take a man who stutters, and the local men told on him. Even with most of them gone already, would they even take him next time? He still stammers.”

“They’ll have to take him eventually.” Her father shrugged. “The war’s gone longer than they thought. Getting low on soldiers.”

Elizabeth put her hand on her chin. She pulled off her apron, absently folding the tie. “Well, if he joined up somewhere a little farther away…” She lowered her head. “Maybe where he didn’t go to school with everyone, so they wouldn’t be quick to notice his speech if he wasn’t nervous.”

Peter tapped his pipe. “Farther away. In a new town, he might make a better impression, and it not be so obvious that he stammers. It’s a ridiculous thought.”

She whispered, “Somewhere like, say, Kentucky?”

“Maybe Fitchburg. Close to your aunt. It’s high time she does something useful for the family.” He mashed more tobacco in, scowling. With a snap, he lit a match and touched it to the pipe. “On second thought, you may have a good idea there, EJ.”

“I do?” Her eyebrows shot up. Her father rarely discussed Belle or especially the ladies of ill repute working at the saloon she owned.

“Yes. You can go with him on the train, make a little holiday of it. Keep an eye on your brother.” He tapped his pipe. “I still don’t approve of Belle’s business choices, but I’m sure I can trust her with my children. She’s still my sister.”

“Are you sure?” Elizabeth looked down. Maybe Belle wouldn’t want to see them.

“I have to say I’m worried about him sitting in a saloon playing games of chance with all those painted ladies.” Peter lowered his voice. “Sometimes, he hasn’t the sense God gave a cow. They’ll take advantage of him.”

“Aunt Belle wouldn’t let that happen. Besides, you need me here…” She hoped her excitement at the chance to travel to Kentucky didn’t show in her voice.

“Go with him. It’s a good idea. Keep him out of trouble until he’s on his way to battle.” With a long pull on his pipe, he exhaled. “Never mind. The whole idea is nuts.”

“If you ask, I would go with him.” EJ exhaled, trying to sound nonchalant. “On the train. Make sure he’s all right. And see him off.” It sounded more reasonable out loud than it seemed inside her head. Could they really get him enlisted with a different recruiter? Since Aunt Belle ran a brothel, she must know how people think, and she would find a way to help Jeremy.

“It wouldn’t be for long, maybe a week or two. I’m sure Belle would like to see you both.” Peter tapped the ashes from his pipe. “Do you mind to write to her?” He pushed out his chair. “I’m going to check on the colt.”

“Yes, sir.”

After putting up the dishes, Elizabeth pulled out her writing pen and ink. She selected the lightest blue paper and dipped the pen. She finished the letter quickly.

My dearest Aunt Belle,

I hope these lines find you well. It has been a very wet spring as of late, and Father hopes to have the fields in seed by the end of the month. I do not know how that could happen, and I fear a poor feed crop. I regret to say that things have not been well here. Confederate raiders came to try to take men for soldiers, and I am most afraid for Jeremy with these invaders in our parts. Father agrees he should join the Union. The local regiments do not want him due to his speech, but I think times are becoming more desperate and we have thought of a plan to help him enlist. Could you see it in your heart to let us stay with you for a time to ready your nephew for Army service? I am awaiting your response.

Yours always, Elizabeth

She wrote Aunt Belle’s address across the envelope. Elizabeth lit the match from a box with a quick flick and slowly melted the wax onto the paper. She shook the match out and took off her signet ring. She dabbed the crest into the swollen blob. The war was not so far away. Last week, there was a skirmish north about three hundred miles at the state border. If Jeremy didn’t head to the war, it might find him here in Missouri anyway.

She studied the image in the wax, opposite of the symbol on the ring. It was mainly a fancy H for Hepscott, with a shepherd’s crook on one side. Hepscott meant shepherd’s coat or something like that in the old country. Now what old country it was, she wasn’t sure. England or Scotland? What language did they speak? She didn’t know that, either. It seemed she didn’t really know her family at all.

At least with the decision made and fate sealed, a cautious relief swept over her. If her father thought it was a good idea for her to go with Jeremy to Kentucky, it would be fine. She tucked the letter into a satchel and started a new pot of water for tea.