{"id":6403,"date":"2007-12-14T08:27:45","date_gmt":"2007-12-14T14:27:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.ncobrief.com\/index.php\/archives\/literary-treatsie\/"},"modified":"2012-10-08T14:23:02","modified_gmt":"2012-10-08T20:23:02","slug":"literary-treatsie","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/archives\/literary-treatsie\/","title":{"rendered":"Literary Treatsie!"},"content":{"rendered":"

An extra and generous Christmas treat for a Friday, an early chapter from Book 3 of “Adelsverein”, better known around here as “Barsetshire with Cypress Trees and a Lot of Sidearms”, which gets into the adventures of the second generation of the German settlers, the rise of the Texas cattle baronies, and diverse other dramatic and interesting matters.<\/em>
\nChapter Two: The Death of Dreams<\/p>\n

Peter Vining\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s patience with his sister-in-law Amelia Stoddard Vining lasted approximately three weeks; a period of time rather longer than he had expected immediately upon his return. He ate heartily of Hetty\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s good cooking at every meal, and slept deep and restfully at night in his own room. He was only a little troubled with bad dreams and the wistful conviction that he would step out of his room at any moment and encounter his mother, Doctor-Papa, or his brothers. The memory of their voices, their footsteps, echoed all the more loudly in the empty house where they had lived. For quite a few days his ambitions went no further than that, and to do nothing more strenuous than to put on some of his old suits of clothing which Hetty laid out for him. They still smelled faintly of the herbs and camphor in which they had been stored away.
\nHe had wondered why Hetty and Daddy Hurst remained, when they obviously got on so badly with Amelia but a visit from Margaret\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s lawyer and executor for her will provided a partial answer: his mother had provided them with pensions, and the right to live on her property for as long as they cared to stay. Margaret had seen to that in her usual efficient manner; the will was air-tight and her bank account and investments secured, although\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthanks to the war\u00e2\u20ac\u201dpitifully smaller than they would have been otherwise. No wonder Amelia was on edge\u00e2\u20ac\u201dMargaret had boxed her in very neatly, leaving her with no other place to live unless she wanted to return to her father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s house.
\nOn a morning about two weeks after he returned, Peter bundled up the tattered coat, shirt, and cavalryman\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s trousers he had worn home from the Army. He intended to tell Daddy Hurst or Hetty to burn the filthy and ragged things. Amelia intercepted him at the bottom of the stairs, popping out of the doorway to the dining room like a dancing figure on an ornamental clock at the sound of his descent. Lately she had begun doing that, turning up unexpectedly no matter what room of the house he was in.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, they shall do no such thing!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she exclaimed heatedly, upon cross-examining him over what he had planned for what remained of his uniform clothes. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153How could you think to do so! They are relics\u00e2\u20ac\u201dsacred relics of our gallant struggle for liberty and rights! Burn them, indeed. Give them to me, Peter!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She took the bundle from him, and to his astonishment, held the unsavory things to her as if they were something worthy of protection. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I will see to it they are mended and suitably preserved, dearest brother, in memory of our cause!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Fancy talk for a bunch of rags,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter answered, nonplussed. He went out to the kitchen, shaking his head and thinking that Amelia was being damn sentimental over something he wouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t have given to a tramp for charity. Daddy Hurst and Hetty were the only sensible people in the house, it seemed like.
\nDaddy Hurst chuckled knowingly when he said as much. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Miz Amelia cain\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t never do enough for the cause,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153\u00e2\u20ac\u02dcSpecially now.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nHetty sniffed as if she disapproved. With a pointed look over her shoulder as she laid a place for breakfast for him she added, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You best beware, Mr. Peter\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthere are causes and there are causes. Once Miss Amelia sets her sights on sommat, she does not take no for an answer.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Most assuredly, I do not,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Amelia herself announced with enormous satisfaction, appearing in the doorway\u00e2\u20ac\u201dagain just like one of those mechanical dolls. Everyone started as she stepped into the kitchen, her skirts rustling indignantly. She looked at the single place at the kitchen table. Her lips trembled with crushing disappointment. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, Hetty,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she added, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I thought it was understood\u00e2\u20ac\u201dwe take our meals properly, in the dining room!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d rather eat in the kitchen,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter answered mulishly. His sister-in-law only laughed, a pretty tinkling laugh as she took his good arm.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t be ridiculous, Peter. One can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t take meals with the servants\u00e2\u20ac\u201deven those who have ideas above themselves. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s just not proper!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Over her shoulder to Hetty she added, as she escorted Peter towards the dining room, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Another place\u00e2\u20ac\u201din the dining room, Hetty.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nOn the whole, Peter would have preferred the kitchen to the all-but empty table in the dining room, where young Horrie kicked his heels against the legs of a chair too tall for him. He and Horrie exchanged sympathetic looks. Horrie dogged his footsteps also, but it did not annoy Peter in quite the same way. His young nephew craved attention and he was lonely for company, over and above Hetty and Daddy Hurst who treated him with considerable affection. But they were old, and had their own work about the place. Peter wondered why Amelia did not want to send him to school. Privately he thought she wanted to make a constant display of her maternal devotion, for she really seemed to care little for the boy, other than as an intelligent pet who talked. Horrie did not seem to care all that much either, to judge by the way that he squirmed out of Amelia\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s lap when she took him up onto it, or the way he turned his cheek away from her kisses, enduring such demonstrations with a stoic face.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You should rightfully sit at the head of the table,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Amelia added, as a tight-lipped Hetty carried in a tray with a fresh pot of coffee and another place setting on it. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You may move my place to the right, Hetty.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It seems very dull without any boarders.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter took the chair at the head of the table from which his mother had always presided, feeling as though he were usurping a place to which he had no real right. Behind Amelia\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s back, Hetty\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s lips twisted soundlessly in agreement, with a silent Gaelic imprecation added for good measure. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Had you not considered continuing as my mother did? It always made for the most interesting meals.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, really, Peter,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Amelia laughed, that irritatingly sweet tinkling laugh. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t possibly engage in a business as vulgar as running a boarding house! Imagine\u00e2\u20ac\u201dall those strangers and their impositions! It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s just not suitable for a respectable woman to do!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It was respectable enough for my mother,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter answered.
\nHetty added spitefully, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Aye, so it was, Miss Amelia\u00e2\u20ac\u201dan\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 what d\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ye say to that?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hetty!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Amelia sounded desperate. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I am talking about family . . .\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153And we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re not family?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Hetty answered crisply, and set down the coffee pot with a decided thump. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Sure and the mistress did not think herself too good to work in the kitchen next to me, or bargain with the tradesmen, while some as I could mention sat in the parlor, all airs and graces an\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 la-te-dah! Not family! \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcTis why herself did what she did, leaving Hurst and I our lifetime in wages and said clear that we should live here as long as we liked! No one otherwise would do a lick of work, Miss Amelia, while the house fell down around ye!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Horrie listened, round-eyed and wary. Peter wondered of he had often observed this kind of scene, while Amelia\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s eyes filled as if being berated by Hetty were the greatest tragedy imaginable.
\nPeter cleared his throat and asked, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hetty, might I have some breakfast now?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nHetty\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s ill-temper vanished magically, and she beamed fondly at Peter and Horrie, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Of course you may! Here I am, forgetting myself again, with you and the little lad waiting on me!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She bustled away.
\nAmelia dabbed at her swimming eyes. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153She does so forget herself,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she quavered. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I know that your dearest mama carried on so bravely . . . under such a tragic loss! But times were so different, Peter. No one thought the tiniest bit ill of her, then. But times have changed and I am helpless . . .\u00e2\u20ac\u009d And quite willing to remain so, Peter thought cynically. Mr. Stoddard\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s gently raised daughter would rather sit in genteel poverty in the parlor of an empty house than carry on from where Margaret had been forced to lay down the labor of caring for her family.
\nHe reached across the tabletop for the coffee pot. Amelia touched his hand and raised her eyes winsomely. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153But now that you have returned, you shall be able to look out for our interests\u00e2\u20ac\u201dall of our interests,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she added. It took Peter more than a moment to take in the implication. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mother Williamson reposed such confidence and trust in you, Peter. She had such hopes of you returning safely, and of all of us being a proper family again.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter gently slid his hand out from under hers, carefully keeping his face utterly blank. Amelia, setting her cap at him? Good God, what a thought! He poured himself coffee, while Amelia continued artlessly, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I would so much rather be guided by someone stronger and wiser. I have no head for such worldly matters.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153There\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s always your Pa,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter pointed out. He was amused to see a flash of irritation in Amelia\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s lovely eyes. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Man of business\u00e2\u20ac\u201d none better to look after your interests.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Not like a husband would,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Amelia said.
\n\t\tPeter thought with annoyance, As if her looking at me with eyes like a cow would make me change my mind\u00e2\u20ac\u201dhow much of a malleable fool does she think I am? That worked with Horace, but I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m damned if it will work with me!
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No, probably not,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he answered agreeably. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153So promise me one thing, \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcMelia: let me look over any of the suitors you are thinking serious about. I am Horrie\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s uncle, after all.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d On the whole, he thought later, he was lucky she didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t throw the coffee pot at him. She was that riled by him deliberately missing all the hints she scattered like handfuls of chicken feed.
\nBut Amelia swallowed her considerable fury, saying only, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I shall be sure of consulting you, Peter\u00e2\u20ac\u201dbeing that you are the nearest to a dear brother left to me,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d which said much for Amelia\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s powers of ladylike self-control. Still, Peter didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think she would give up the matter entirely. His brother\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife was single-minded that way. <\/p>\n

The largest portion of Margaret\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s property was left to him, including the house. Amelia was the second beneficiary. She was a widow with a small son, and with little inclination towards managing her own affairs. Looking around for someone who would masterfully take all these burdens from her, Amelia\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s eyes couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t help but fall onto Peter. Against all those practical considerations and what she perceived as her overwhelming need, his disinclination was merely a small obstacle to be overcome. No doubt she thought it would be only a matter of time before she wore him down as she had worn down his brother, with tears, tantrums, and pretty displays of forgiveness and reconciliation. Peter had observed this from afar, indulgently thinking his brother could be forgiven that kind of soft-headedness; Horace had loved her, after all. But Peter did not, and he had no intention of being maneuvered into doing as Miss Amelia wished.
\n\t\tIn the end, he took counsel with Daddy Hurst. He correctly figured that Daddy Hurst\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s little cabin, at the back of the house, behind the stables and the vegetable garden, was one place he was safe from Amelia\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s ambush. He went down in the evening, after supper. There was still light in the sky over the weighted boughs of the apple trees, and the sun went down in a dark red smear of sky and purple clouds behind them.
\n\t\tDaddy sat at ease on his porch, slapping at an occasional late-season mosquito. Peter waited below for permission to enter and said, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve come for that drink of whiskey you promised.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d It was one of his mother\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s rules, instituted firmly when he was small and adventurous: \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcWait until you are invited,\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 Margaret told him sternly. \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcBut why, Mama\u00e2\u20ac\u201dhe\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s jus\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 an old nigra slave.\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcNonetheless,\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 Margaret said, \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcHurst or anyone else, black or white, is due the courtesy of deciding when and whom he might invite into his home.\u00e2\u20ac\u2122
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153\u00e2\u20ac\u2122Bout time,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the old man chuckled richly, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Come on up, set a spell.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He gestured casually at the other chair, before fixing Peter with a shrewd and stern look. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153How long you think befoah Miz \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcMelia, she track you down?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t much care, Daddy\u00e2\u20ac\u201dlong as I can face up to her with a couple of drinks in me first!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\tHurst shook his head, rising painfully and in several stages from his chair. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Marse Peter, it don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t do you no good a\u00e2\u20ac\u2122tall to pour sperrits on your problems.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I guess not,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter agreed with a sigh, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153but it does render them temporarily more amusing!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He settled into the other chair\u00e2\u20ac\u201dsurprisingly comfortable it was\u00e2\u20ac\u201das Daddy Hurst vanished into the dim doorway of his little house. He emerged with a dark glass bottle and a pair of battered tin mugs, silently pouring out a tot for each.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153To home,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter lifted the tin cup in a mock toast, and the old man echoed it. Peter savored it in silence.
\nAfter a long moment, Daddy Hurst added, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It ain\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t the place, so much as dey people in it, Marse Peter.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter made a noncommittal sound, for Daddy Hurst had unerringly put his finger on it. He might be home, but the people who counted in it most\u00e2\u20ac\u201dMargaret, Papa-Doctor, Horace, Johnny, and Jamie\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthey were all gone. Of all those who had fixed his mother\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s house in his memory, and for whom he cared, only Daddy Hurst and Hetty remained. And little Horrie was the only one of his blood family left.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not as if I can send her away from here,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter said, a little surprised to find himself thinking out loud. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153She was my brother\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife, after all. And for Horrie, this is all the home he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s ever had.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Daddy Hurst nodded thoughtfully in the twilight. He silently topped up both of their tin cups, the bottle clinking gently against each rim, while Peter continued, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Suit me right down to the ground if she sets her cap at some other fellow. Let him marry her, the poor bastard.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Meantime, thayer Miz Amelia be, like a cuckoo in a nest.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Daddy Hurst sounded like he was savoring the whiskey. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mebbe you might have some bizness of yo\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 own, tahk you away for a time. Might give Miz Amelia a notion that you ain\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t so much interested.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Something that would keep me way for a while,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter mused, thoughtfully. After a long moment he said, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I like that thought. I could say I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m looking for work, got itchy feet.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mmmm,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Daddy Hurst topped up the cups again. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Got me jest the idee, now! You could say you wuz goin\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 up to Friedrichsburg, to see \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcbout Marse Carl\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s fambly. They wus lef\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 in a hard way, Miz Margaret she felt real bad \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcbout that. Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 know if they is all dat better, even if de war is ober.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153If they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re still in a bad way, I can hang my hat there for a while and help them out,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter ventured slowly.
\nDaddy Hurst chuckled again and nodded. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153An if dey ain\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t\u00e2\u20ac\u201dwal\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 dey yo\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 kin! Jes\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 stay wit \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcem for a bit, and Miz \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcMelia, she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll nebber know de difference.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Any port in a storm,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter agreed philosophically. The more he thought on that, the better the notion sounded; get away from his mother\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s house, haunted with the memories of old happiness. His uncle\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s children should not have been orphaned and left in penury. Peter cast his memory back to Horace\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wedding, the last time he had seen Uncle Carl, the only time he had met his cousins. Rudolph\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthat was the oldest boy, they called him Dolph. He had been about twelve then, now he would be close to a man grown. But the younger boy, Sam, and the daughter, what was her name? Hannah, that was it. They had been a little older than Horrie was now, an age where they might still need help, and from one of their kin. He could not recall much about Uncle Carl\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife, only that she was dark and plain, nearly as tall as he was. But his mother had liked her very much, so there must have been something to her. He doubted very much that widowhood would have left her as helpless as it did Amelia.<\/p>\n

\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t be serious!?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Amelia exclaimed in horror the next morning when he broached the subject over breakfast. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why should you pay the least mind to that foreign woman and her brats! Horrie\u00e2\u20ac\u201dleave the table at once,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she added. Horrie had barely begun eating, and he cast an apprehensive glance at his uncle. Peter nodded reassuringly. Without another word, Horrie slipped down from his chair.
\n\t\tAs soon as the door closed behind him, Amelia continued, her voice rising with an edge of hysteria in it. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153As for him\u00e2\u20ac\u201dI\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d think he had shamed us enough! He was a traitor to the cause, to everything that we fought against! I remember very well how he made a scene at our wedding! If you ask me, he got everything he deserved! My Papa said they didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t hang enough of those filthy traitors when they had the chance\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She continued for some moments, while Peter crumbled a piece of toast in his hand, not particularly listening but waiting for her to be finished. He felt nothing but a sense of weary distaste; mostly for her, but a little for himself and the hot-tempered fool that he had been. His Uncle Carl had been kind, a soft-spoken and honorable man. He had not deserved what had happened to him, he did not deserve this spiteful calumny now, and his family deserved better consideration from his kinfolk, even if his politics had differed from theirs.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you done?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he asked when Amelia had quite run short of breath in mid-tirade. She nodded tearfully, and he spoke in that soft, dangerous voice that might have deceived someone who didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know him well into thinking that he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t angry. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153She was his lawful wife and his children are my blood kin. What I will do as regards their welfare is my own business and none of yours. Do not presume to lay down any rules for me, Amelia. You were my brother\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife, not mine. For which I thank God, several times daily.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\tAmelia sprang up, sending her chair falling backwards to the floor with a clatter. For a moment, he thought she would throw the coffee pot at him for sure; instead she flung down her balled-up table napkin. Her face was pale, distorted with fury. No one who saw her at a moment like this would ever have thought she was pretty, Peter noted with a sense of calm detachment. Her mouth worked as if she were trying out words vile enough to express what she felt, at war with how she had always schooled herself to appear.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You\u00e2\u20ac\u201dyou are horrid!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she finally spat, almost incoherently. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153A horrid, horrid man!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Most likely,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter agreed, in a voice flat with indifference. That was the final straw for her. She burst into a storm of tears and ran out of the room, throwing the dining room door back so violently that it fairly bounced off the wall as she went by. Peter flicked the crumbs from his fingers, and found another piece of toast. He laid it on his plate and was laboriously spreading it with butter when Horrie peeked around the doorway.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153May I come back now?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he asked in a plaintive voice. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153She . . . Mama . . . is upstairs.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Best place for her,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter remarked, heartlessly. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Now the both of us can have breakfast in peace. Have some toast, but you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll have to butter it yourself.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d With only one hand available, applying pressure to the butter knife sent it skidding all over the plate; he had not quite worked out a means of holding it steady. Amelia had always made a big show of offering to do things like that for him\u00e2\u20ac\u201danother reason for being uncomfortable around her.
\n\t\tHorrie scrambled up onto his chair again. The two of them crunched toast in companionable silence. At last Horrie ventured, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you really going away, Uncle Peter?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Poor little lad, he sounded terribly dejected.
\n\t\tPeter sighed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m afraid so, Horrie.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Could I go with you?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think so,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter answered gently. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153The place for little boys is at home, and this is your home.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I wouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t mind,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Horrie replied, stoutly. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t like it much, anyway. \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcCept for Hetty and Daddy, an\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 Gran-Mere.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Well,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter thoughtfully chewed the last crust and ventured, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153If you liked, I could see that you went to school. You could board at the Johnson\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s. That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s where I went to school sometimes, over on Bear Creek\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthat\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a mite south of here. The Professor, he runs a fine school. There\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d be all kinds of other boys and girls to be friends with you. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll fix it with your Mama that you should go there, if you like.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Could I?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Horrie beamed, his face instantly transformed to cheerfulness. Horrie wanted to be away nearly as much as Peter did. Peter could only think that his mother must have had the greater part of raising her grandson into such a sensible and fearless little lad.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153There are a lot of older students,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter warned, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153and you might be one of the very youngest. But if you really want, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll see what I can do.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\tAmelia put up no resistance to his suggestion that Horrie board at the Johnson school; cynically Peter concluded that having missed her immediate marital target, she was indifferent to what either of them might do now. He and Daddy Hurst saw Horace\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s son happily settled at school. <\/p>\n

\t\tThe very next day Peter took the stage for Friedrichsburg. He tugged at his shirt collar and neck-cloth and thought how, sartorially speaking, he had been more comfortable living the tramp\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s life. But riding in the stage was several leagues above walking and hitching rides on freight wagons. The stage stopped just long enough in New Braunfels for passengers to get out and stretch their legs and admire the pretty town with its wide streets and the gardens in front of the tidy plastered houses. Plants in pots hung from the eves of porches, and there was a smell of good bread baking and a general air of comfort and well-being.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153\u00e2\u20ac\u2122Pon my word, it looks as civilized as any town back east,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d said one of Peter\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s companions. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153How long has this part of the county been settled?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hardly twenty years, if that.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter answered the man as shortly as possible. He was not much in the mood for talk. The sound of German speech from the folk in New Braunfels reminded him uncomfortably of his grandfather Becker. And some of them also looked too long at him, or quickly looked away from his pinned-up sleeve, another reminder that he was not a whole man. As if he needed reminding, or anyone\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s swift and unthinking pity.
\n\t\tThe place did look peaceful, though, bustling and prosperous in a way that he had nearly forgotten existed. New Braunfels was a place that the war had seemingly left untouched, at least on the surface.
\n\t\tOn the final leg of the journey he sat in the corner of the swaying coach, leaning back with his hat pulled down over his eyes, and pretending to doze as he thought about how he would go about finding his uncle\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s family. How would be introduce himself, and what could he say, after all this time? Feelings still ran pretty bitter about the war, if Amelia was any indication. The German settlers had been on the other side, if Hetty spoke true\u00e2\u20ac\u201dand Peter had little doubt she did. He might, with a bit of effort, put the war behind him, put it away with the ragged uniform that Amelia made such a show of cherishing. But things like a stump and a scar, or the brothers he had once\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthose things pulled him back. He needed something new to do, something that would fill the day with interest so that at night he could sleep without dreams. He needed to put a thousand of those days between himself and the things he had seen in Tennessee and Virginia.
\n\t\tThe journey was tiring enough that eventually he slept for real, during the last miles into the hills. He woke to a land of rolling limestone hills, quilted in green and gold. Meadows of autumn grasses and wheat fields, some in harvest and some still luxuriantly long, were stitched with oaks and rivulets of clear green water. Cattle grazed in the river-bottoms, or stood switching their tails in the shade. Once there was a herd of sheep, drifting across a distant hillside like a ragged cloud. The steeples, rooftops and chimneys of the town ahead were embedded in more green trees, like raisins in one of Hetty\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s sweet rolls. The coach bumped and swayed through a creek crossing, and there they were: the houses of Friedrichsburg closing in on either side, pretty little plastered houses like New Braunfels.
\n\t\tThe coach crossed a single wide street and pulled up next to a sprawling ramble of bigger buildings, set in a garden of roses and green vines growing over standing pergolas.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153This is the Nimitz place,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d cautioned the stage driver. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Last place in 2,000 miles for clean sheets and a good meal.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153And a hot bath,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d added one of the debarking passengers. Peter jumped down, and scanned the street. It looked like a big town; not as large as Austin, but large enough that it might take some time to find Carl Becker\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s family, or someone who knew of them. He took up the grip with his things and followed the others back along the street. A huge tree overhung half the road and a stable-yard. Beyond was a large bathhouse; even in late afternoon there were plenty of bathers making use of it. May as well get a room, and spend the next day searching town.
\n\t\tThe hotel owner, Captain Nimitz, was a wiry, fair-haired man of middle age. His eyes looked as if he was accustomed to viewing things farther away than the scattering of dusty visitors in his tidy hotel lobby. He seemed a jolly sort, welcoming his guests in German and English. Some of them seemed to be well-acquainted, from the laughter elicited by his remarks. After Peter engaged a room for the night, he ventured the question uppermost in his mind. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m looking for some kin of mine\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthe family of Carl Becker.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Captain Nimitz looked at him quite skeptically, and Peter hastened to add, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153My mother was his older sister. She\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s dead now, but her friends all thought that Uncle Carl\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s family was living here in Friedrichsburg, or nearby.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re very much in luck,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Captain Nimitz exclaimed. His whole mien had changed to one of genuine rather than professional welcome. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153They are here right now, around in back. The wedding is tomorrow, you see. When I first saw you, I wondered what suddenly put young Dolph in mind! The two of you look like brothers. If they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re finished loading dishes and gone already, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll send you after them in the trap.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He turned and called into a doorway behind the hotel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s simple desk, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Bertha, komen sie hier, bitte,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He rattled off what sounded like directions to the pretty girl who emerged from the back room like a doe emerging from the woods and added, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll see that your bag is put into your room, if you care to leave it with me.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Komm,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d whispered Bertha shyly. She led Peter down the hallway, past the counter, past what sounded like a busy taproom, through a kitchen just as busy, and out the back of the Nimitz Hotel to a yard with a hitched wagon standing in it. Two young women and a small girl about Horrie\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s age hovered around a pair of young men carrying a heavy wicker hamper between them. The men lifted it with much effort into the back of the wagon. Peter waited by the back door and, as they came back for a second load, he saw that one of them was the German teamster lad who had given him a ride, weeks ago. The other had to be his cousin Dolph, grown nearly as tall as his father, with something of the same self-contained look and the same clear blue eyes. The girl, Bertha, said something in German to the two women, and they turned towards him, curiously.
\n\t\tPeter stood dumbstruck, for the taller of the two was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in the flesh, a veritable goddess with a riot of red-gold curls around a perfect, heart-shaped face and eyes as dark as morning glory flowers. He could not help himself, staring at her and searching for something to say for one long moment. It did not escape him that his cousin and the others noted this with amusement, as if it happened often. Well, of course it did, he chided himself.
\nHe tore himself away from contemplating the glory of her eyes, as his cousin Dolph gravely observed, \t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Cousin Peter? Peter Vining? It is really you? Been a while, hasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t it?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolph\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s eyes went very briefly to Peter\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s empty sleeve, as if it was noted but as something that did not matter very greatly. He spoke briefly, a quiet murmur in German to the others, evidently explaining who he was, before he continued in English. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153This is my cousin Jacob\u00e2\u20ac\u201dhe says you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve met already\u00e2\u20ac\u201d Cousin Anna, and my Aunt Rosalie, and my little sister Lottie. I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think you have met them at all. What brings you into Friedrichsburg?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Long story,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter answered, still unable to look away from the beautiful woman. Aunt Rosalie? Whose kin was she? She looked as unlike Uncle Carl\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife as it was possible to be and still be female, and she was scarcely his own age. The little girl clung to her hand, neither bashful nor bold. Oh, the child was one of the Beckers all right; blue eyes, the color of the sky and hair so fair as to be nearly white. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I just got back from . . . from the east and thought I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d look for you. I was told that my mother thought you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d been left in a bad way.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Not so much,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Cousin Dolph shrugged, guardedly. Hetty was right; he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t one to give much away. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re doing all right now. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a bit scrambled at the moment, with the wedding tomorrow.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Our little Rose is marrying her brave soldier boy,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the other young woman explained, the one to whom he had paid hardly any notice, while the beautiful Aunt Rosalie blushed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153We have hardly enough plates for the multitude, so Mrs. Nimitz is lending us sufficient.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She spoke English with a decided accent; a tiny woman with skin as pale as cream, and sleek brown hair. Anywhere else but next to Miss Rosalie, she would have drawn every male eye.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I think my heart has just now been broken,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter bowed gallantly over Miss Rosalie\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hand and then Miss Anna\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153to know that Miss Rosalie has been here all this time, and now it is too late. Her husband to be is one very lucky man, but at least I have the chance to admire both of you!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153From a distance,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Miss Anna observed, tartly. Peter thought that Dolph and Jacob exchanged a look of amused commiseration. He quickly dropped Anna\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s fingers.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d ask you to supper,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolph said, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153but that the house is in such an uproar\u00e2\u20ac\u201dI think it would take a buffalo stampede to get any notice tonight or tomorrow.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t wish to be a bother,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter replied. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve a room here for tonight, and no hurry at all to be anywhere else. There\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s no taskmaster standing over me, these days.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Good for you,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolph said. He looked at Peter with one swift summing-up glance. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll have nothing but cold meats and dry bread for supper tonight! Everything is for the celebration tomorrow\u00e2\u20ac\u201dbut you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll come to it, of course.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I will, if Miss Anna will save a dance for me,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter answered, boldly. He thought that Cousin Jacob shook his head in mock dismay, just as the little girl plucked at Miss Anna\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s skirts. She ventured a question in German but Peter had no need of translation. She was looking at his empty sleeve just as Horrie had. Cousin Dolph looked a little embarrassed.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Tell her it was to save on the cost of shirts,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter said.
\n\t\tBefore Cousin Dolph could do so, Miss Anna opened her eyes very wide and replied, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Think of what you could save at the shoemakers if they had cut off one of your other limbs!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\tPeter laughed in unfeigned delight. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153A practical woman who keeps accounts,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153My mother would have liked that, Miss Anna!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153She does keep accounts,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Cousin Dolph remarked, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153for the store.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He hesitated as if he had just had a thought. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153And the business in freighting that Jacob\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s father runs.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He spoke in German to Jacob, and the two of them took up the second hamper of dishes and set it in the back of the waiting wagon. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Might I stay and talk with you, Cousin? We can go around and sit in the hotel garden for a while. Have you ever been to Captain Nimitz\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s place before now? He claims that it is the equal of any in Texas. Jacob and Uncle Hansi will come back and talk business for a while, if you don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t mind.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Not a bit of it,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter answered. He saw with a faint pang of regret that Miss Rosalie and Miss Anna were already taking their leave, as Jacob capably gathered up the reins. A long-limbed brindle-colored hound dozing underneath the rear axle roused itself and sauntered over to Dolph, who absently petted the top of its head.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Anything for a bit of peace and quiet,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Cousin Dolph observed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153This is m\u00e2\u20ac\u2122dog, Pfeffer; means \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcpepper\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 in German.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He whistled for the dog to follow, and led Peter around to the side of the hotel, opposite the bathhouse and stables, where roses and the last of the summer hop-vines hung from rough cedar pergolas and tables and benches scattered in the shade underneath. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153And you can tell me of your real purpose, Cousin.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Do I need one?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter asked, as they sat down. Pepper settled at their feet, underneath the table. The two of them sized each other up in silence, and Peter had the unsettling thought that there was appreciably more to Cousin Dolph than one might at first think. He couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t be much more than seventeen, if that, but he bore himself with such an air of capability that he seemed older. According to Hetty he had gone off in the last year of the fighting with Colonel Ford\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s company of boys and old men. Probably saw a fair bit of the old elephant, Peter thought. He had the look of someone who carried responsibility and kept his own counsel. For himself, Peter found it curiously comforting to look across the table at his cousin and see the likeness and temper of Uncle Carl, or Horace and Johnny and Jamie, to see that and know there were still those of his blood alive in the world.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Most men have more than one reason for doing what they do,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolph answered. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153The reason that they tell everyone and the real one.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He gestured unhurriedly at a white-aproned waiter who appeared in one of the doorways leading out from the taproom into the garden. In a moment, the waiter appeared with a pair of tall stone-ware mugs.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Let\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s just say that the home hearth no longer appeals,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter said at last. His cousin sank a few gulps of beer and regarded him skeptically over top of his mug.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153And . . . ?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he prodded gently.
\nPeter continued, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153As a former Reb, I can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t do much of anything. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve been advised by a practitioner of the medical arts to work in the outdoors, at nothing too strenuous; plenty of fresh air, so the man said. You offering me a situation, Cousin?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I might,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolph replied. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You know much about farming?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Not a lick.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter shook his head. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153And I thought you all had lost your land, anyway.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d That brought up another uncomfortable thought. Uncle Carl\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife would have no reason to look kindly on a fighting Rebel.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153We did,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolph answered with utterly calm and unshakeable assurance. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153But I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m going to get it back. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m not sure how, but with the war being over, it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s just a matter of time until I do. And I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll rebuild the house and go home. They didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t burn all of it, you know; just the barn and the outbuildings. It was my father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s house, his land, and I will have it back, one way or the other.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\tPeter drank of his own mug; he found his cousin\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s certainty rather unsettling. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It must have been something prime!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he ventured and his cousin nodded.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Rich bottom land, in the valleys,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolph answered, as if he savored the taste of the words, as if he was looking at it instead of Captain Nimitz\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 beer-garden. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oak trees on the hills and cypress along the river.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Someone just might beat you to it,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter said. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Some rich man with connections might have taken it up already.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolph shook his head. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s deserted\u00e2\u20ac\u201dtoo dangerous for anyone to take a family to, the way the Indians have been raiding again. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve kept my eye on it. I thought of just going out and living on it alone, never mind it being upright and legal-like, but my mother and Uncle Hansi need help with the business. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m just biding my time, hauling freight.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Sounds no worse than anything else,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter observed, and his cousin smiled, the same serene and confident smile that had been his father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s. After some moments of companionable silence, he was bold enough to ask the foremost question on his mind, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153How will it set with you, and the folk hereabouts, that I took for secession and served in the Texas brigade?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153War\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s over now,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolph answered curtly.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not the answer to the question, Cuz.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter watched as Dolph looked down at the table between them, drawing his finger through a ring of spilt beer. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Everyone knows about the secesh lynch mobs, and how the military governor looked the other way. How will your mother take it\u00e2\u20ac\u201dme working at your farm, knowing that your father and I had words, before it all began? Or was she a secessionist, like my brother\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nDolph shook his head, and answered as though he were thinking it out very carefully. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mama loved the farm because Papa loved it. And she was for the Union because it was what my father believed in. She was a stranger to this country; she took his word on matters like that. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Waldrip and the Hanging Band that she hates like poison, and not because they were secesh. That was just the excuse they used to murder Papa.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d When Dolph said the name Waldrip, his face had looked hard and grim. Seeing Peter\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s confusion, he added, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He was a low-life horse thief and troublemaker who used to live close by our place, once. He and Papa had words\u00e2\u20ac\u201dnothing to do with the war\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u02dccept that when everyone went off to fight, the ones that stayed behind here in the Hills were scum like Waldrip. I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t believe Mama cared two pins about secesh or Union, otherwise.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d A renewed smile broke like a sunrise on his face. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153After all, Mama\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s brother, Uncle Fredi\u00e2\u20ac\u201dhe enlisted in the Frontier Battalion at the very start and I joined up with Colonel Ford\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s company. You could say we both wore the grey if we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d had any uniforms at all!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nPeter acknowledged the truth of this with a short, grim chuckle and Dolph continued, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Aunt Rosalie\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s man that she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s marrying tomorrow? He was in Terry\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s company, up to the end. My other uncle went out to California and joined the Union Army and Opa was mad for abolition. So make of it what you will, Cousin Peter\u00e2\u20ac\u201dbut it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s over now. Papa said once that slavery was like a boil and once it was lanced, all the pus would come out, and things would start to heal. Me, I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t propose to start picking at scabs. I got better things to do.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He drank a good few swallows of beer and Peter did likewise, reflecting that his young cousin had an astonishingly level head\u00e2\u20ac\u201dsober and impartial, more like that of a professor of fifty than that of a boy only just beginning to shave.
\nThat was good beer, too; no wonder the Germans were inordinately fond of it. He set down his tankard and asked, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153So, what do you plan, Cuz?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153To ask Uncle Hansi if he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll take you on, for now. If you can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t drive one-hand, you can handle a double barreled shotgun, can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t you? Some places, Uncle Hansi likes to carry an extra man, someone to stand guard beside the driver.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nCousin Dolph looked beyond Peter, nodding cordially at three men who had just come into the garden by the street gate, and stood looking around for someone: Cousin Jacob had returned with another boy who looked about Dolph\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s age, and a burly dark-haired man with shoulders like a bull-buffalo. At first the man looked like just another thick and hard-working Dutch farmer, but this Uncle Hansi had a shrewd spark in his eyes. His demeanor commanded instant attention. Peter found himself standing up as if in respect to a senior\u00e2\u20ac\u201dwhich Uncle Hansi undoubtedly was.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Good day,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he shook Peter\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hand, briskly. He spoke with a thick accent, but fluently enough and serenely uncaring of the fact that to Peter, he sounded like a comic Dutchman. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hansi Richter. Our house is a madhouse today. We come to Charley\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s for peace and quiet. Maybe there will be a brawl over a chess game or some other matter. Will still be more restful than home. My nephew told Josef you might like to work. I know who you are, one of Becker\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s nephews. You have the look, indeed. Rudolph has spoken for you. No need for that. He was a friend to us.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d At his uncle\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s elbow, Dolph winked broadly and lifted his tankard again. His uncle added, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You will come to the wedding feast tomorrow. I will send the lads if you do not come willing.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d The big man\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s face brightened and he exclaimed \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Aha! Charley! Four more!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He lapsed into German with the hotel proprietor. They sounded like very good friends.
\n So this was the formidable Anna\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s father, Peter realized; they had the same forthrightness, as well as the same dark eyes. Jacob and the other boy brought up more chairs, and they settled around the table, beaming expectantly at Peter.
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You said you wished to admire and dance with their sister tomorrow,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolph explained, with much amusement.
\n He laughed when Peter answered, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Do they have any apprehensions about my attentions towards Miss Anna?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Not about your attentions to her,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolph began to cough as a mouthful of beer went down the wrong way. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153About what she might do to you!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\t\t\u00e2\u20ac\u0153An untamed Kate?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Peter asked.
\nHis cousin grinned. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve no idea.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

An extra and generous Christmas treat for a Friday, an early chapter from Book 3 of “Adelsverein”, better known around here as “Barsetshire with Cypress Trees and a Lot of Sidearms”, which gets into the adventures of the second generation of the German settlers, the rise of the Texas cattle baronies, and diverse other dramatic […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":14,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,1,30,75,74,24],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6403","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-aint-that-america","category-general","category-history","category-literary-good-stuff","category-old-west","category-world"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6403","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/14"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6403"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6403\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7845,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6403\/revisions\/7845"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6403"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6403"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ncobrief.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6403"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}