No Less Than the Journey (12 page)

CHAPTER 18

‘Had you ever killed anyone before the fight you and Harrison had with the river pirates, Mr Curnow?’

The question was put by Emma as she and Wes sat on the low stone surround of the flagged terrace where the Schuster’s and their guests were enjoying a light breeze after the heat of the dining-room.

‘I would rather you called me Wesley, or Wes,’ he replied, ‘but the answer to your question is “no”, although I have seen many men die violent deaths during the time I worked in mines.’

Emma shuddered, ‘I can’t think of anything worse than having to work under the ground … but that would have been very different to what happened on the Mississippi. How did you feel about actually pointing a gun at someone, pulling the trigger and seeing him fall, knowing you had killed him?’

Taking care over his words, Wes said, ‘I
had
thought it would trouble me but, as Marshal Berryman said to me before the fight, “If you pause to think in such a situation it will likely be the last thought you ever have.” They were shooting at us and we firing at them. My only regret is that I didn’t shoot one
particular bandit
before
he fired at Harrison … but there was a lot of shooting going on at the time.’

‘
Marshal
Berryman…? Oh yes, the brigadier. I forget that he is also a lawman. Killing must come naturally to a man like him.’

‘He is no stranger to shooting, or being shot at,’ Wes agreed, ‘but I don’t think he takes any pleasure from it. He is a lawman and takes his work very seriously, but he’s a good man. Harrison both liked and respected him.’

‘Poor Harrison. He survived a horrible war, only to be killed in a gunfight that really had nothing to do with him.’

Wes had taken an instant liking to Emma and, aware that she was very close to tears, he said, ‘Had he not taken such a prominent part in fighting off the river pirates a lot of innocent men would have died – and I dread to think what would have happened to the women on board. Yes, it is tragic that Harrison was killed, very tragic, but he died a hero’s death. That’s why Marshal Berryman was so determined it should be recognized as such by the United States. He is sending a full report to your President about Harrison’s part in eliminating the gang.’

After a lengthy silence, Emma said, ‘Thank you for saying what you have about Harrison. Papa says he has invited you to stay here with us for a while, I do hope you will. This is a wonderful estate, I – and my sisters, of course – would love to show you around.’

‘It’s very kind of your father – and you and your sisters – but I am expected at the lead mines in Missouri and it’s time I began earning a living again.’

Wes was aware that what Emma meant was that she would enjoy his company for a while longer. During the evening she had made that as clear as propriety would allow. He was tempted to stay if only for that reason, but there could never
be anything serious between them, their backgrounds were so very different. Besides, he believed he could never feel entirely comfortable staying in such sumptuous surroundings.

‘But … you will stay for a while?’

‘That depends very much on Marshal Berryman. Everything I own is on board the
Missouri Belle
and he knows more about what is likely to happen to the boat than I do.’

‘Of course! I was forgetting that your boat was wrecked on the river. You have had a very adventurous introduction to America….’

The conversation turned to the last minutes of the
Missouri
Belle
’s life as a Mississippi riverboat and they were still talking about it when they were joined by David Connolly and Sophie.

The Louisiana Senator’s son did not seem at ease with the subject of their conversation, and Wes realized he feared something might be said about the trouble he had brought upon himself in the riverboat’s gambling saloon. However, it was not long before the talk turned to England and what life was like there and David Connolly was able to relax.

Before long, they were joined by Emma’s other sisters and her brother and were soon discussing the various social functions they had enjoyed, comparing the merits and demerits of Kentucky and Louisiana society. It made Wes more aware than ever of the insurmountable differences in his way of life and theirs.

The gathering of mourners at the Schuster mansion ended for the night when Olga Schuster rounded-up her daughters, reminding them that the following day would impose an emotional strain upon the whole family and they should ensure a good night’s sleep in order to cope with all that the day would inevitably bring.

Before she went off with the others, Emma had once again
pressed Wes to remain at the house when the funeral was over. She eventually extracted a promise from him that he would seriously consider the matter.

Wes was not enthusiastic about remaining here, in Kentucky, especially if, as was certain, Aaron would be leaving within the next day or two. Emma was a very attractive, kind and thoroughly likeable young woman, but she lacked Anabelita’s worldliness, and her obvious wealth actually frightened him.

He believed his own appeal to her lay in the fact that he was not an American and came from a different background to any of the other men she knew.

He wished he had been able to speak to Aaron about his plans, so that he might use them when Emma next brought up the suggestion that he extend his stay at her home. Unfortunately, the US Marshal was heavily involved in discussions with Silas Schuster and some of the older guests about United States politics and the talk looked as though it would continue until well into the night.

He decided he would follow the example of the female members of the Schuster family and go to bed.

CHAPTER 19

The funeral of Harrison Schuster was a solemn but impressive ceremony on a day that Wes thought should have been dull and grey to suit the sombre occasion. Instead, it was warm and bright with not a cloud to be seen in the soft blue sky and the refrain of Kentucky songbirds beyond the open chapel windows at odds with the solemnity of the service.

Ex-Confederate soldiers, wearing grey uniforms that had probably fitted no more comfortably when they were issued to owners who were more active then, entered the chapel in ones and twos. Some appeared embarrassed by the presence of the immaculately turned out US cavalrymen, drawn up at the rear of the chapel. Others were rigidly defiant of the blue-uniformed representatives of an army which had emerged victorious from the hard fought Civil War.

Incorporated in the service were glowing eulogies from Harrison’s one-time commanding officer and also from a sergeant who had served in Harrison’s company and had known him from boyhood.

There was a ripple of resentment among the grey-uniformed contingent when, at the request of Silas Schuster,
Aaron was called upon to say a few words in honour of the deceased.

The dissent did not die away until Aaron had slowly climbed the three wooden steps to the pulpit and paused, hands on the edge of the octagonal structure, looking out over the congregation. When he had their full attention, Aaron began.

‘On this sad occasion we are here to mourn a very special man. A man with such strong beliefs that he once put his life on the line to fight for what he believed in, wearing the grey uniform that is in evidence in his honour today. The cause for which he fought lost the war – although I can vouch for the fact that there were many times when it was a close run thing.

‘However, being on the losing side did not leave Harrison Schuster a bitter man, nor did he wish to live in the past, still fighting the war with words, if not deeds. Harrison was aware that the future – a great future – lay in being part of a united country. The United States of America. He became a committed supporter of that country – our country, yours and mine.

‘When we were on board a ship together, bound from New York to New Orleans, only days before his death, we would often talk about that future and I was greatly impressed by his enthusiasm. Yes, he was proud of being a Kentuckian – and rightly so – but he had grasped the much loftier concept that we are no longer “Southerners”, or “Northerners”. We are all
Americans
, equal citizens of The United States of America.

‘I was so impressed by his enthusiasm for all this entailed that it was my intention when we eventually parted company to write to President Ulysses S. Grant and recommend that Harrison be made a United States Marshal.’

Aaron’s revelation brought a gasp of surprise followed by murmurs of both approval and dissent from sections of the congregation.

Waiting until the sound died away, Aaron continued, ‘Sadly, it was not to be. Harrison lost his life upholding the law of this great country of ours. Let our lasting tribute to him be that we are all so inspired by his example that we too would be willing to make the same sacrifice for our country, the
United
States of America, should the need arise – although I pray to God that it will never be necessary.’

There was silence in the chapel when Aaron returned to his seat, his war-wounded leg troubling him as he descended from the pulpit more than it had when he climbed the steps, but Silas Schuster gave him an approving look as he passed him by.

After the singing of a hymn and final prayers from the minister, the grey-uniformed pall bearers took up the coffin once more and, closely followed by the grieving Schuster family, led the sombre procession along the aisle.

As they neared the doorway, Wes caught sight of a strange figure standing at the rear of the chapel. He had not seen him before at the mansion – and would certainly have noticed him had he been there.

No taller than Aaron, the newcomer was dressed in buckskin trousers and a fringed and well-worn buckskin jacket. He was by no means a young man and although it was difficult to accurately guess his age from what little of his weathered face could be seen between a heavy grey beard and hair of the same colour that hung down to his shoulders, Wes thought he must be at least sixty.

Aaron caught sight of him at about the same time and Wes was startled when the Marshal’s head came up in sudden recognition. Leaving the slow moving cortege, he hurried across the chapel and clasped the unkempt stranger in a warm embrace.

Wes was about to drop out of the procession too when, after
only the briefest exchange of words, Aaron took the buckskinclad man by the arm and despite his obvious reluctance, hurried him to the place he had left in the procession, walking beside Wes.

Aaron made no attempt to introduce his companion to Wes until they were outside the house and making their slow way to a small, walled cemetery at the side of the mansion, where the dismounted US cavalrymen were drawn up beside an open grave. Here, in the briefest of introductions, he said merely, ‘Wes, this is Charlie Quinnell – better known as “Old” Charlie. Charlie, meet Wesley Curnow.’

The two men shook hands and Wes was aware that Old Charlie was attracting a great deal of attention from the mourners. It was hardly surprising, his garb was quite unlike anything Wes had ever seen before and it was apparent his dress was considered equally unusual by everyone except Aaron.

The burial service was brief but moving. The flag carried by the US cavalrymen was lowered and the soldiers brought to attention as Harrison’s coffin was lowered into the ground. Then, as the Schuster women expressed their grief, a salute was fired over the grave by a small guard of honour.

The ceremony over, mourners and soldiers together made their way to the terrace at the back of the house, where food and drink were laid out on tables.

As family friends gathered around the Schusters, Silas left them and made his way to where Aaron and Wes stood with Old Charlie, in order to learn who he was and what he was doing at the funeral.

Once again it was Aaron who made the introductions, but this time he added, ‘Charlie is an ex-mountain man, ex-plainsman, trapper and hunter – and frontiersman. He scouted for me when I was stationed in the Territories with the army,
but when I was called back to Arkansas we lost touch with each other.’

Shaking hands with Old Charlie, Silas Schuster said, ‘I am pleased to meet you, Mr Quinnell, but what brings you to Kentucky – and how did you learn that Brigadier Berryman was here.’

‘I didn’t know he was,’ Charlie replied, ‘I was on my way back from the East, where Bill Cody had persuaded me to go with him to take part in some damn fool show he was putting on for city folks who had never so much as smelled an Indian. He said I’d make more money in a month than in a year of hunting, out in the Territories. He might have been right, but making a fool of myself in front of a crowd of gullible Easterners wasn’t for me. I packed it in and me and my mule decided to go back to where we both belong. Along the way I learned Cap’n Schuster had been killed and was being buried nearby, so I came to pay my respects. I kept him and his men in meat when they were fighting up on the Kansas–Missouri border.’

Shaken out of his customary composure, Aaron said accusingly, ‘You fought for both sides in the war, Charlie?’

‘No, General.’ Fingering the hairs of his substantial beard away from his lips, Charlie added, ‘I was a
hunter
, not a fighting man. The only men I fight are Indians – and then only if they’re too riled up to listen to reason.’

‘If you knew my son then you are welcome in my home, Mr Quinnell. As for fighting … I don’t think there will be any of that going on here today!’

Silas Schuster inclined his head to where the men wearing uniforms, both blue and grey, were helping themselves from the laden tables and chatting amiably to each other.

‘Some of the men from the Columbus fort are veterans,’ Aaron said, ‘They’ll have respect for men in grey and will no
doubt be quite ready to swap yarns about battles they shared – and the incompetence of some of the officers who led them.’

‘Well, speaking as an outsider who saw the fighting from both sides, I don’t think they’ll be talking about either you or Cap’n Schuster, General,’ Charlie said.

‘In that case shall we go and join them, Gentlemen?’ Silas Schuster suggested, adding, ‘I hope you are hungry, Mr Quinnell, there is a great deal of food to be eaten up.’

Fingering his beard once more, Charlie replied, ‘The only way I could get here in time for the funeral was to ride all night, Senator. Right now I could eat my mule – if it wasn’t that I’ve ridden all the meat off her bones….’