Tupelo, Mississippi, April 1865
Screams ripped through the air.
Ruth Stallings whirled away from the edge of a cliff, one hand around her pa’s musket. Shots, from the direction of her home, popped like pine resin in a campfire. The other clutched two rabbits meant for supper.
Black smoke snaked above the trees and mingled with the clouds. Her heart constricted, and she stampeded toward home. As she splashed down the bank of Little Creek, the hem of her homespun dress soaked up the water and tugged at her. She slipped the gun’s strap around her neck to free her hands, tossed the rabbits into the brush, and hiked up her petticoats.
Her heart raced faster than her pounding feet. They hadn’t heard gunfire around the farm for several weeks. And she had the only gun left to them by dirty rotten thieves. Those evil men who took everything of value. Her family’s silver, fine paintings, even Ruth’s and her sister’s Sunday best. If bushwhackers returned, what would her father defend the family with? She shouldn’t have listened to him when he said he needed to work the field and she would hunt.
Breathless, her chest heaved with the effort to draw in air. Ruth sagged to the ground at the edge of the clearing. Her childhood home burned; flames licked the twilight sky. Her parent’s bodies lay, hands outstretched, touching even in their final moments. Where was grandmother? Ruth’s sisters?
Heat seared her face. Ash coated her skin.
With a moan that ripped apart her soul, she crawled to her parents’ bodies. “Ma? Pa?” Ruth rolled her ma over. A crimson stain spanned the front of her ma’s normally spotless apron. A single shot between Pa’s eyes told his fate. Sobs tore at her insides. Ruth lurched away and lost the meager dinner she ate an hour before. Ruth struggled to her feet.
She should never have gone hunting. She was strong. She could pull the plow as well as Pa. Better, since Pa lost his arm in the war. Then Pa would’ve had his gun. Could’ve maybe defended the family. No, not with his war wound. Oh, please, God, let the rest of them be all right. “Grandma! Deborah! Sarah!”
“We’re here.” Her sisters and Grandma darted from behind the burning house.
Grandma waved as tears cut through the layer of dirt on her face. “We hid in the old root cellar.”
Sarah, the youngest, threw herself across their parents. Her wail, like a wounded animal, rose over the roar of the fire.
“Bushwhackers,” Grandma wheezed. “Surprised us. As soon as we saw them, I shoved the girls into the only hiding place I could think of.” Tears poured down her cheeks. “They took all our money. You know there wasn’t much, but it’s all we’ve got left. Your pa tried to stop them.”
Ruth wrapped her arms around her, their tears mingling, then pulled away and grabbed the weeping woman by the shoulders. “Grandma, did you see which way they went? How many were there?”
“Three. Wearing bits and pieces from both sides of the war.” Grandma stepped back and eyed Ruth, her eyes full of suspicion. “You can’t be considering going after them. It’s just money, Ruth.”
“They killed Ma and Pa.” Ruth clenched her fists. Her and her sisters were now destitute. Their home gone. She couldn’t stand and do nothing.
“You’re just a girl, Ruth.” Grandma grabbed her hands. “These are dangerous men. They’ll shoot you as soon as look at you!”
“I’m a grown woman.” Ruth tore her gaze away from her parents and tried to focus her blurry vision on her grandmother’s face. “I have to do this. I have to try. They’ve taken everything.”
“Not everything.” Tears soaked the ribbon of the bonnet tied beneath Grandma’s chin. “We’re alive.” She shook Ruth’s arms. “Your parents wouldn’t let you do this. It’s a fool’s mission. Don’t let their death be in vain.”
“You won’t change my mind.” Ruth stiffened at the mention of Ma and Pa. “Doesn’t God promise to look after the foolish?”
Grandma nodded. “I’ll pray He does.” She wiped her face with her apron and pointed west. “That way.”
Ruth dashed across the yard and wiped the tears from her eyes. No time to grieve. She needed retribution. To get back what was left of their livelihood. Stupid or not, she must achieve something from the devastation of the day. If she stopped long enough to think, she might change her mind.
She’d roamed these woods since her childhood. She knew them like the back of her hand. Chances were, the men would camp in the small clearing by the creek. They wouldn’t have to waste time removing the brush. Branches ripped at her hair and tugged at her clothes as she followed their tracks through the dense foliage. They didn’t seem concerned with hiding the evidence of their passing. Their arrogance fueled her anger. She followed their trail for a mile then squinted through the growing dusk. A light flickered a few yards ahead. Campfire?
Careful where she placed her feet, she approached the sound of men’s voices raised in laughter. She slowly parted a juniper bush and counted two men. Where was the third?
“What do we have here?”
Her breath caught and she dropped the gun into the thick underbrush.
“You must be the purtiest spy I’ve ever laid eyes on.” The man, a few years older than a boy, really, latched onto her arm with a vice-like grip and dragged her toward the others. “Look what I found.” He shoved Ruth into the dirt.
A heavily bearded man scowled. “We don’t need her. Let her go.”
Her captor laughed. “Come on, Bert. After I have a little fun.”
A third man tossed a bottle in the fire. “Make it fast, Leroy. You’ve held the money long enough. It’s my turn.”
“Sure thing.” Leroy glanced at Ruth, then slid a pistol from his waistband and pointed it at her chest. “Stay.” He pulled a whiskey bottle out of a saddlebag and took a long swig. His unsteady gun hand tipped to her face.
Ruth’s legs trembled. What had she gotten herself into? Leroy’s shirt pulled free of his stained trousers. Her eyes grew round as she caught sight of the wad of bills her father worked hard to save. How had these renegades found the cash? How much damage had they done to the house before torching it? What would they have done to her sisters if they were discovered? Ruth thanked God for the root cellar set away from the house.
After he drained half the bottle, the man yanked her back to her feet. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“What do you want me to say?” She planted fists on her hips and willed her legs not to tremble. “I won’t beg to the likes of you.”
He laughed. Rotting gums pulled over missing teeth. “That’s what I like. A woman who knows how to hold her tongue. Come on. Let’s make this fast.” He motioned with the pistol back the way they’d come. “We need a bit of privacy for what I got planned.”
They started off. Was it possible to grab Pa’s musket? Sure enough, he knocked her to the ground. She slid her hand under her and searched through the thick ivy she’d tossed the weapon into.
Her attacker leaned in. His eyes glittered in the moonlight that filtered through the thick trees. His whiskey soaked breath washed over her. Bile rose in her throat. He lowered his pistol to fumble with the fly of his pants. When he moved to rummage beneath her skirts, she rolled from under him and twisted to the spot where she’d dropped the weapon.
She grabbed it and shot to her feet. “Give me my money.”
“Why you little—” He lunged.
Ruth’s finger squeezed the trigger.
Leroy toppled with a muffled groan and lay still.
Oh, God, what had she done?
Shouts rose from the other side of the bushes. She grabbed the money and the man’s pistol and dashed in a different direction from where they’d come. They’d never find her. Please, God, don’t let them go back and find my sisters.
Her throat burned from tears she refused to shed over the dead man. She hadn’t meant to kill him. Self defense, that was all. A large log blocked her path. Thanks be to God, it was hollow. With the skill of a weasel, Ruth squirmed inside and stuffed the money into her bodice, the pistol into her skirt pocket. She hugged the weapon like a lover.
Footsteps crunched. Hoarse whispers disturbed the night. She held her breath and waited. Only ordinary sounds filled the forest. After what seemed like hours, she wiggled free and made her way home.
Grandma and her sisters looked up from the fresh burial plots. Guilt washed over Ruth. She should’ve been here to lay her parents to rest.
“Thank the Lord in heaven. I didn’t expect you to make it back.” Grandma leaned on a shovel. “What happened? We heard gunfire.”
“I got our money back. Pack up whatever you can salvage. We need to leave.” Ruth knelt at her parent’s grave. Loose pebbles dug into her knees and the scent of freshly turned dirt filled her nostrils. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.
“Where are we going?” Grandma asked. “This is our home.” Ruth surveyed the smoldering ruins. Rage as hot as the embers burned through her. Nothing was left but the charred bones of what had once been a fine farm house. It wasn’t home anymore. “We’ll go as far as our money will take us.”
- ASIN : B0CPVLZKJW
- Publisher : Independently published
- Publication date : December 8, 2023
- Language : English
- Print length : 350 pages
- ISBN-13 : 979-8871250969