Elmore Leonard - Last Stand at Saber River

The next December Duane arrived with his daughter. Duane had not wanted to return to Gallipolis after having been relieved of his command. They had made him resign his commission because of incompetence or poor judgment or whatever shelling your own troops was called.

It had happened at Chancellorsville, during Duane’s first and only taste of battle. His artillery company was thrown in to support Von Gilsa’s exposed flank, south of the town and in the path of Stonewall Jackson’s advance. When Von Gilsa’s brigade broke and came running back, Duane opened fire on them and killed more Union soldiers than Jackson had been able to in his attack.

Duane, of course, gave his version. It was an understandable mistake. There had been no communication with Von Gilsa. They were running toward his position and he ordered the firing almost as a reflex action, the way a soldier is trained to react. It happened frequently; naturally mistakes were made in the heat of battle. It was expected. But Chancellorsville had been a Union defeat. That was why they forced him to resign his commission. A number of able commanders were relieved simply because the Army of the Potomac had suffered a setback.

Vern accepted his explanation and even felt somewhat sorry for him. But when Duane went on pretending he was a soldier and hired four new riders for his “scouts,” as he called them, you could take just so much of that. What was it? Kidston’s Guard, Scouts for Colonel J. H. Carleton, Military Department of Arizona. It was one thing to feel sympathy for Duane. It was another to let Duane assume so much importance just to soothe his injured pride.

And Lorraine, spoiled and bored and overly sure of herself. The worst combination you could find in a woman. Both she and her comic-opera officer of a father living under one roof. Still, it seemed there were some things you just had to put up with.

Though that didn’t include a home-coming Confederate squeezing him off the river. Not after the years and the sweat, and breaking his back for every dollar he earned…

That had been his reaction to Cable before he saw Cable face to face, before he talked to him. Since then, a gnawing doubt had crept into his mind. Cable had worked and sweated and fought, too. What about that?

Duane’s logic at least simplified the question: Cable was an enemy of the Federal government in Federal territory. As such he had no rights. Take his land and good damn riddance.

“His family is his worry.” Duane’s words. “But in these times, Vern, and I’ll testify to it, men with families are dying every day. We are a thousand miles from the fighting, but right here is an extension of the war. Sweep down on him! Drive him out! Burn him out if you have to!”

Still, Vern wished with all his strength that there was a way of driving Cable out without fighting him. He was not afraid of Cable. He respected him. And he respected his wife.

Vern found himself picturing the way Martha had walked out from the house with the shotgun under her arm. Cable was a lucky man to have a woman like that, a woman who could keep up with him and who had already given him three healthy children. A woman, Kidston felt, who thoroughly enjoyed being a woman and living with the man she loved.

He had thought that Luz Acaso was that kind exactly. In fact he had been sure of it. But ever since Janroe’s coming she seemed a different person. That was something else to think about. Why would a woman as warm and openly affectionate as Luz change almost overnight? It concerned Janroe’s presence, that much Kidston was sure of. But was Luz in love with him or mortally afraid of him? That was another question.

He heard steps behind him and looked over his shoulder to see Lorraine crossing the porch. She smiled at him pleasantly.

“Cabe makes you stop and think, doesn’t he?”

“You’re on familiar terms for only one meeting,” Vern said.

“That’s what his wife calls him.” Lorraine watched her uncle lean against the support post. He looked away from her, out over the yard. “Don’t you think that’s unusual, a wife calling her husband by his last name?”

“Maybe that’s what everybody calls him,” Vern answered.

“Like calling you ‘Kid.’ ” Lorraine smiled, then laughed. “No, I think she made up the name. I think it’s her name for him. Hers only.” Lorraine waited, letting the silence lengthen before asking, “What do you think of her?”

“I haven’t thought.”

“I thought you might have given Martha careful consideration.”

“Why?”

“As a way of getting at her husband.”

Vern looked at her now.

“What do you mean?”

Lorraine smiled. “You seem reluctant to use force. I doubt if you can buy him off. So what remains?”

“I’m listening.”

“Strike at Cable from within.”

“And what does that mean?”

Lorraine sighed. “Vern, you’re never a surprise. You’re as predictable as Duane, though you don’t call nearly as much attention to yourself.”

“Lorraine, if you have something to say-”

“I’ve said it. Go after him through Martha. Turn her against him. Break up his home. Then see how long he stays in that house.”

“And if such a thing was possible-”

“It’s very possible.”

“How?”

“The other woman, Vern. How else?”

He watched her calmly. “And that’s you.”

She nodded once, politely. “Lorraine Kidston as”-she paused-“I need a more provocative name for this role.”

Vern continued to watch her closely. “And if he happens to love his wife?”

“Of course he loves her. Martha’s an attractive woman if you like them strong, capable and somewhat on the plain side. But that has nothing to do with it. He’s a man, Vern. And right now he’s in that place all alone.”

“You’ve got a wild mind,” Vern said quietly. “I’d hate to live with it inside me.” He turned away from her and walked down the steps and across the yard.

You shocked him, Lorraine thought amusedly, watching him go. But wait until the shock wears off. Wait until his conscience stops choking him. Vern would agree. He would have it understood that such methods went against his grain; but in the end he would agree. Lorraine was sure of it and she was smiling now.

Cable passed through the store and climbed the stairs to the bedroom where Martha was unpacking. He watched her removing linens and towels from the trunk at the foot of the bed, turning to place them in the open dresser drawer an arm’s length away.

“The children will be in here?”

Martha looked up. “Clare and Dave. Sandy will sleep with me.”

“With Luz here, I think you’ll get along with Janroe all right.”

“As long as the children eat in the kitchen.”

“Martha, I’m sorry.”

She saw his frown deepen the tightly drawn lines of his bruised face. “Someday I’m going to bite my tongue off. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I can’t blame you,” Cable said.

“But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“If you weren’t here,” Cable said, “it wouldn’t even be possible.” He moved close to her and put his arms around her as she straightened.

“I want to say something like ‘It’ll be over soon,’ or ‘Soon we’ll be going back and there won’t be any more waiting, any more holding your breath not knowing what’s going to happen.’ But I can’t. I can’t promise anything.”

“Cabe, I don’t need promises. Just so long as you’re here with us, that’s all we need.”

“Do you want to leave? Right this minute get in the wagon and go back to Sudan?”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. You say it and we’ll leave.”

For a moment Martha was silent, standing close to him, close to his bruised cheekbone and his lips that were swollen and cut. “If we went back,” Martha said, “I don’t think you’d be an easy man to live with. You’d be nice and sometimes you’d smile, but I don’t think you’d ever say very much, and it would be as if your mind was always on something else.” A smile touched her mouth and showed warmly in her eyes. “We’ll stay, Cabe.”