Galveston Between Wind and Water - By Rachel Cartwright Page 0,2
heads.
“I beg you, Mrs. McGowan,” Gus said, “don’t provoke them. We’re all paying a price, but once the war is over, life will be better for all of us.”
Lorena cradled Bret’s head against her stomach. “Life will never be the same as before for any of us. The war made sure of that. But whatever is left, it will still be life, and I want it for my son and husband.”
She turned to the captain and tried to focus only on his eyes to find the last vestige of human decency and respectability that might still be there. If she could quell the rampaging torrents of her fears, she might find something to hold onto, something she could use to save her family.
The stagecoach rattled and shook fiercely as it veered to one side. William reached into his inside suit pocket and pulled out an unsealed envelope.
He stared at it for a few moments and tapped it against his hand. Still uncertain, he took out the letter and read it again.
Finally satisfied that his words were as true as they could be under the circumstances, William smiled with the sorrowful acceptance that this was the one hope he had for saving his family, but what if the home guard should find it first? Lorena was expecting him tomorrow morning on the eleven o’clock but he had no way of telling her that he was arriving today by private coach, in hopes of returning unannounced.
He slipped the letter back into the envelope and sealed it. William leaned forward in the coach toward the woman and her small boy. “Excuse me, ma’am, but I was just thinking how much your son reminds me of my own boy, Bret.”
The woman looked suspiciously at William. She glanced down at the letter in his hand.
William smiled warmly and extended his hand in greeting. “My name is William McGowan, ma’am. I was wondering if I might impose upon you . . . for a small act of kindness on behalf of my family.”
Captain Boland scratched the side of his face. “Well, ma’am, I’d like to help you, but you’re gonna have to take that up with the hangman. And last I seen there was a long line of cryin’ women ahead of you.”
Bret gritted his teeth. Scared and humiliated, he trembled more with anger than fear. He was not going to let these men hurt his mother. He dug his hand into the pocket of his torn knickerbockers.
Boland unbuckled his gun belt and handed it to Haines. “You’re a smart woman, Mrs. McGowan. Kinda high ’n’ mighty with your nose up when you passed me on the street. Guess you don’t cotton much to half-breeds, but I wanted to give you a chance, anyways.”
Ragget approached Boland and spoke with slurred speech. “Gus is still green. Don’t you think we should let him have a go first? They ain’t got much spirit left after we’ve finished with ’em.”
“Maybe he’s right, Captain,” Haines said. “Let’s see what our bright boy can do. ’Sides, only quim he’s ever had is on the backside of a heifer.”
Captain Boland chucked his head back and laughed. The men slapped each other’s shoulders and howled like drunken fools. Even Gus grinned at his own ridicule.
“All right, get up here, boy. I like to know what a man’s made of if he rides in my company. Don’t be bashful. The sofa over there will do just fine.”
The pale youth cringed. “No . . . no, sir. Thank you. I don’t much feel like it.”
“What’s that, boy?” Boland grinned like a wolf about to pounce.
The young man’s sullen eyes grew more intense. “If she’s been with coloreds or other men, there’s a chance I could catch something. The war spreads the pox like wildfire.”
The others fell quiet and glanced at each other.
Lorena closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She quietly thanked the strange young man for exposing his fear. Let them think what they wanted about her character if the lie would stop them from laying their filthy hands on her or Bret.
Haines scratched the side of his face. “Damned if I’ll admit it, but maybe he’s right for once. Heard a man can go crazy from the pox if’n it’s real bad. Eats up your brain like maggots on horse meat.”
The captain bit the tip of his thumbnail and spat it on the floor. “I don’t care what a frightened boy-virgin says. She don’t look sick.”