open, frantically searching the barnyard for their only horse.
“No, no, no,” she muttered, not seeing the dappled gelding anywhere in sight.
“How are we going to manage without Old Blue?” Pru asked anxiously.
“I don’t know .” Mercy’s shoulders forlornly sagged. Without a horse there could be no plowing. And with no plowing, there would be no food. To make matters worse, given their dire financial straits, there was no hope of replacing Old Blue.
Glancing at the buckboard wagon standing sentry in the barn, Mercy wondered if she and Pru might be able to pull it to the lower field . Despite the loss of the horse, they still needed to bury seven dead men.
Just then , a flock of killdeer suddenly flew out of a nearby walnut tree, the birds’ abrupt departure boding ill.
Straining her ears, Mercy heard what sounded like the pound of hooves in the distance. Her heart hammered against her chest as she recalled Spencer’s dire threat.
Within moments, the ground beneath their feet began to vibrate.
Pru’s lower lip started to quiver. “What are we going to do, Mercy?”
“Defend ourselves,” she stubbornly announced, gulping back her own terro r. “To the death, if need be.”
With that said, she ran to middle of the yard, stopping at the first corpse she came upon. Bending at the waist, she reached for the pistol still clutched in the dead man’s hand. Averting her gaze from the gaping hole in the middle of the man’s forehead, she unsuccessfully tried to pry the pistol free from his death grip. When that proved a fruitless endeavor, she went down on her knees, rolling him over so that she could get to the other pistol holstered in his gun belt.
Remembering how Spencer had opened the cylinder on his weapon, Mercy did the same, verifying that the revolver was fully loaded. Quickly, she snapped the cylinder back into place before stumbling to her feet.
Turning toward the fast approaching riders, Mercy stood her ground . Her knees shaking uncontrollably, she wrapped her clammy right hand around the butt of the dead man’s pistol. Prudence ran toward her, her face marred with fear.
“Get in the house,” Mercy ordered, not wanting her sister to witness what was about to transpire.
Pru dence stubbornly shook her head.
“Pru, I said get in the —” Mercy stopped, realizing that the riders would soon be upon them. “Oh, very well,” she acquiesced. “But stay close to me. And for goodness sake, let me do all of the talking.”
The two of them then stood side-by-side, waiting for the approaching riders, each able to feel the quiver in the other’s shoulder. When the riders finally came into view, Mercy reached over to hug her sister, barely able to contain her joy.
The Union soldiers have finally arrived! A detail of cavalry troopers from the looks of them.
Riding into the yard, the blue-uniformed soldiers came to a halt amid a jangle of harness bits and shouted orders. Mercy rushed toward the officer in charge, overcome with relief.
The officer tipped his hat in her direction. “We mean you no harm, ma’am,” he politely informed her, pointedly nodding to the pistol that she still held in her hand.
Mercy flushed, not knowing what exactly she should do with the loaded firearm since the Union soldiers were clearly friend not foe. “I’m sorry, um –” she glanced at the officer’s epaulettes– “Captain, but we heard riders approaching and didn’t know what your . . . your intentions were.”
The captain glanced at the dead corpses littering the yard, a grimace on his face. “It looks as though you folks had quite a fight on your hands. Are these dead me n bushwhackers or jayhawkers?”
“Bot h,” Mercy informed him. “We were raided two days ago by Bloody Ned Sykes and his bushwhackers.”
“ Bloody Ned? Here, in Marion County?” When Mercy nodded in the affirmative, the officer hastened to ask, “Is everyone in your household all right?”
“Yes, we’re —” She
“No, no, no,” she muttered, not seeing the dappled gelding anywhere in sight.
“How are we going to manage without Old Blue?” Pru asked anxiously.
“I don’t know .” Mercy’s shoulders forlornly sagged. Without a horse there could be no plowing. And with no plowing, there would be no food. To make matters worse, given their dire financial straits, there was no hope of replacing Old Blue.
Glancing at the buckboard wagon standing sentry in the barn, Mercy wondered if she and Pru might be able to pull it to the lower field . Despite the loss of the horse, they still needed to bury seven dead men.
Just then , a flock of killdeer suddenly flew out of a nearby walnut tree, the birds’ abrupt departure boding ill.
Straining her ears, Mercy heard what sounded like the pound of hooves in the distance. Her heart hammered against her chest as she recalled Spencer’s dire threat.
Within moments, the ground beneath their feet began to vibrate.
Pru’s lower lip started to quiver. “What are we going to do, Mercy?”
“Defend ourselves,” she stubbornly announced, gulping back her own terro r. “To the death, if need be.”
With that said, she ran to middle of the yard, stopping at the first corpse she came upon. Bending at the waist, she reached for the pistol still clutched in the dead man’s hand. Averting her gaze from the gaping hole in the middle of the man’s forehead, she unsuccessfully tried to pry the pistol free from his death grip. When that proved a fruitless endeavor, she went down on her knees, rolling him over so that she could get to the other pistol holstered in his gun belt.
Remembering how Spencer had opened the cylinder on his weapon, Mercy did the same, verifying that the revolver was fully loaded. Quickly, she snapped the cylinder back into place before stumbling to her feet.
Turning toward the fast approaching riders, Mercy stood her ground . Her knees shaking uncontrollably, she wrapped her clammy right hand around the butt of the dead man’s pistol. Prudence ran toward her, her face marred with fear.
“Get in the house,” Mercy ordered, not wanting her sister to witness what was about to transpire.
Pru dence stubbornly shook her head.
“Pru, I said get in the —” Mercy stopped, realizing that the riders would soon be upon them. “Oh, very well,” she acquiesced. “But stay close to me. And for goodness sake, let me do all of the talking.”
The two of them then stood side-by-side, waiting for the approaching riders, each able to feel the quiver in the other’s shoulder. When the riders finally came into view, Mercy reached over to hug her sister, barely able to contain her joy.
The Union soldiers have finally arrived! A detail of cavalry troopers from the looks of them.
Riding into the yard, the blue-uniformed soldiers came to a halt amid a jangle of harness bits and shouted orders. Mercy rushed toward the officer in charge, overcome with relief.
The officer tipped his hat in her direction. “We mean you no harm, ma’am,” he politely informed her, pointedly nodding to the pistol that she still held in her hand.
Mercy flushed, not knowing what exactly she should do with the loaded firearm since the Union soldiers were clearly friend not foe. “I’m sorry, um –” she glanced at the officer’s epaulettes– “Captain, but we heard riders approaching and didn’t know what your . . . your intentions were.”
The captain glanced at the dead corpses littering the yard, a grimace on his face. “It looks as though you folks had quite a fight on your hands. Are these dead me n bushwhackers or jayhawkers?”
“Bot h,” Mercy informed him. “We were raided two days ago by Bloody Ned Sykes and his bushwhackers.”
“ Bloody Ned? Here, in Marion County?” When Mercy nodded in the affirmative, the officer hastened to ask, “Is everyone in your household all right?”
“Yes, we’re —” She
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