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Covering Love

By Caryl McAdoo

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Chapter One

A sob sounded; something akin to a kitten crying for its mama. Evie cocked her head and closed one eye just like the captain, but she still couldn’t tell what made the noise. She returned to her story.
How she loved this part! It would always be her favorite adventure of Red Rooster, the Gentleman Pirate.
Someone rapped lightly on her door, then it creaked open. “Baby doll?”
“Up here, Daddy.” She closed her book then hurried to the slide and slid into his waiting arms. As always, he caught her, and twirled her around three times. She kissed his cheek. “I’m so glad that you’re home early. I missed you.”
“Well, I’ve got some sad news. Your grandfather got bucked off a new horse, so we’re going to Texas.”
“No! That couldn’t be!” She pushed out of his arms and wiggled to the floor. “Why, everyone says PawPaw is the best horseman ever. And Mama said there’s not a horse he can’t ride. You’ve heard her say it a million times. Are you teasing me? Because if you are, this isn’t very funny.”
“Not this time, baby. I wouldn’t tease about this. He did get thrown and hurt himself bad. I’ve come to assist you getting packed.” He bowed. “I’m at your service, young miss. We leave for the train in two hours.”
Wow, to Texas! And she’d get to ride the train! She’d not been to the Lone Star State in two years and could only remember bits and pieces of that trip.
In her prayers, she told God she couldn’t wait until next year to meet her new pony that PawPaw bought especially for her. But she never meant for him to get hurt.
That made her so sad.
“He’ll get better right, Daddy? Him and MayMee are still coming for Thanksgiving. Isn’t that right? Because in her letter, she promised she’d bring me her new Red Rooster book. And we’re still going back to Texas after the new year, right? Just like we already planned?”
“We’ll have to see, Evie.”
“You know how much I really love the whales in this story, but I’m not finished reading it again yet. It’s his . . .” She closed the book and held out the front cover. “See? The San Juan Islands Adventure story, and he’s been seeing killer whales! Those are the huge black and white ones.”
“That’s great. Now we need to pack your bag. Where is it? You can bring your book along to read on the train. Bring two or three.”
“Well, I think we should wait and go tomorrow after Sally’s birthday party. Because I don’t want to miss it at all, and besides, I have a wonderful present for her. Do you want to know what it is? Do you, Daddy?”
“Not now, Evelyn.” He opened her closet door. “Where is your carpetbag? We’re running out of time.”
What was wrong with him? She glared. He never hardly ever called her by her proper name, and he wasn’t listening. That just wasn’t right. How could she leave in two hours when the party wasn’t until tomorrow? “But Daddy.”
“No buts.”
“Still, we can’t leave now! Mama knows how bad I want to go Sally’s party.” Tears welled. “PawPaw can’t be hurt that bad. He’ll understand if we’re one day later. And . . . and . . .”
Another sob silenced her. She raced toward her parents’ room, riding the banister to the bottom, then flung open their door without bothering to knock—one of her daddy’s strictest rules—but she didn’t care that day.
Being upstairs, he wouldn’t know anyway. He couldn’t beat her there because he never ran in the house or slid down the banister.
Her mother stood beside the bed, staring at her open steamer trunk, crying.
“Mama?”
She turned toward Evie and held her arms out. Her eyes were all red, and tears wet her cheeks. It was true. PawPaw must be hurt really bad. It broke her heart to see her mother so sad. She forgot all about Sally and the party.
What kind of monster horse could buck PawPaw off?
Like trying to pour backstrap molasses on a cold day, getting ready for the train seemed horribly slow, but Daddy got it all done.
Holding Mama’s hand tight, Evie climbed aboard the huge metal car then watched out the window for Aunt Mary Rachel and Uncle Jethro. They finally got there, but no one else boarded. Where were all her cousins?
Weren’t they coming? Would she have anyone at all to play with?
Whoosh. Chug. Then another whoosh sounded, followed by faster chugs.
The station moved behind her. The whistle blew loud two times. How could that be? Evie pressed her nose to the glass. The few folks who still stood on the boardwalk waved.
White smoke from the train filled the late afternoon sky, blocking out the sun’s brightness.
Her cousins must not love PawPaw or want to see him get better. She watched for a bit longer, then sat back down next to her mother, leaning in tight against her. The whole car must be just for them. That part seemed fun, but still . . . no one to play with . . .
Only she hardly ever had playmates except when she went to school . . . or Mama went visiting.
But knowing that a bad horse hurt PawPaw was worse than not having anyone to play with, and her mother being so sad, the very worst.
Was he crying like Mama?
A nice man with white gloves came with a cart full of food. She chose the roast beef and took some of the carrots, but no potatoes—and never any smelly onions. Oooo, she hated those. Even thinking about them made her want to spit. She got a little bowl of green beans, too.
None of it tasted good as what Cookie served, but then no one else’s food ever did.
After eating almost all of it, she set her napkin on her plate and smiled at her father. “Daddy, once PawPaw teaches me to ride, can we bring my Twinkle Toes back to California? He’s all mine you know. He bought him just for me, so I don’t have to share him with my Texas cousins, and he can surely come to California.”
“We’ll see, but he might be sad to leave his home there.”
“But he’d have me instead of all his horse friends, and . . . PawPaw called Twink the perfect horse for me. I’m for sure and for certain he’ll love me as much as I already love him.” She turned toward her mother. “Remember, Mama? MayMee put it in her letter.”
“Yes, baby, I remember. But your grandfather may not . . .” She looked away, holding her bottom lip with her top teeth like maybe she was trying not to cry again.
Evie hated it whenever Mama cried. If they lined up all the mothers in the whole world, she’d choose hers every time. “Don’t worry, Mama. He’ll be better by the time we get there, right?”
“I hope so, baby girl.”
That evening, she read some while the grownups talked, but she listened, too. Aunt Mary Rachel said something about him being eighty-seven. Evie never knew anyone that old.
PawPaw must have lived a long time . . . almost forever. Then Uncle Jethro talked about what a good life the great man had lived.
Why was he saying that? Did he think PawPaw might die? She never thought about that. How could he? What about him teaching her to ride?
Every time she glanced up, out of the corner of her eye, she’d catch one of them looking at the other with worried, sad faces. Daddy’s and Uncle Jethro’s weren’t as gloomy as her aunt’s and mother’s.
Sometimes, the adults used code words and moved their lips without making any sounds. Did they think she was a baby or something? That they couldn’t talk about the truth around her? Well, she could fix that.
Way before she even got sleepy, she started bobbing her head on purpose. Then after a while, she slumped over next to her mama and play-acted asleep. Exactly as she figured, real quick the big people started talking like she couldn’t hear every word.
Mostly stuff she already knew.
They told lots of good stories about PawPaw though.
How he’d fought in three wars and been stabbed with an Arkansas toothpick and got shot in the shoulder; about the time the Indians came to steal back Aunt Rose, how he saved Miss Jewel and Mister Jean Paul—plus lots of their relatives—from being slaves, and many more.
Then they started talking about his accident.
Uncle Jethro piped up and told them what he’d heard. “Right after we got the telegram, I walked over to Doctor Theleman’s and told him what happened to Henry. He made it sound like a miracle that a man his age even survived.”
Of course, her pawpaw would live! No fall off a horse could do him in. He could sir vive anything because she loved him too much. And so did Mama.
Besides, everyone always said he was one tough old bird.
She sat straight up and glared at her uncle. “He’s going to be fine. I know it. Doctor Theleman doesn’t know everything. God can heal PawPaw. Can’t He, Mama?”
Tears erupted. Maybe her grandfather might go to Heaven.
Her mama wrapped her up tight with her arms. “I’m with you, Evie. God and your PawPaw can do anything.”

Henry stepped to the shore’s edge. His mother and his beautiful Susannah waved. Blue Dog, at his wife’s side, wagged his tail. Was that Wallace standing next to him on the other side? Mercy.
How many years had it been? Where was May?
“PawPaw.”
He turned around. His favorite granddaughter held her arms out. He glanced back across the water. Everyone smiled and waved for him to come over, but he turned back and took a step toward the six-year-old.
Intense pain radiated from his side. Someone moaned. A hand touched his.
“Sweetheart, do you want more laudanum?”
Opening his eyes, he found May standing next to him. There she was. “Anyone here yet?”
“No, darling. They haven’t had time, but they’re on their way. They left Thursday, and today’s Friday, so they should be here sometime tomorrow.”
“So soon?” He coughed, and the pain worsened.
“They’re coming by train.”
“It is, my love. Yes, to that painkiller. And a whiskey chaser. That stuff tastes terrible.”
“A please-ma’am would be nice, you old goat.” With everything ready, she elevated his head and poured the medicine down his gullet.
Soon enough, the barking agony quieted some. “I dreamed of Evelyn. I really want to see her one more time.”
“Tomorrow dear . . . maybe sometime late today, but . . .”
He nodded toward the bottle of opium. “I know. Give me another sip, please. Maybe I can doze off again.”

The iron wheels squealed. Evie pressed her nose to the cool window glass. Sparks flew as the train slowed. “They must be stopping to get more water. That’s what makes the locomotive’s steam engine run. Right, Daddy?”
“Yes, baby girl.” He didn’t look up from his stupid newspaper.
Why he wanted to read all that boring stuff, she didn’t know. She offered a smile, though he probably wouldn’t even see it, and she didn’t really much want to anyway.
“Well, it is. The nice man told me all about it, and it runs on steam from hot water. ”
“That’s good.” He nodded, but still didn’t bother looking over at her.
She exhaled through her mouth, but that didn’t work either.
Maybe she’d read, too. She reached for her book, but right before her fingers touched the binding, she changed her mind and retrieved her cigar box with all the letters from PawPaw and MayMee. She especially liked the ones he wrote all by himself.
Easy to tell them apart, too, because her grandmother spelled better and had a prettier penmanship, but she didn’t . . . well, she loved Evie . . . but she probably wasn’t her maymee’s favorite—not like her pawpaw. He didn’t mind telling anyone who would listen that she was his favorite granddaughter in the whole wide world.
She loved him best of all.
And like the big clock in the hall bonged right on time every day, every hour, his letters arrived once a week, no matter what. She read the one where he first told her about Twinkle Toes—one of her favorites, and she’d finally get to meet her pony.
Would Mama and Daddy stay long enough for PawPaw to get healed so he could teach her how to ride?
Folding it nicely and returning it to her box, she looked up and started to ask her daddy again. Oh, well, still reading.
And besides, she’d already rubbed him red asking so many questions about when her pawpaw would be well. She hoped the doctors got him all fixed up fine and fancy and everything.
Sounding the letters out, she figured the sign on the train station said Austin, Texas. Her grandparents didn’t live in the capital though. They lived in Llano, but the train didn’t go there. Austin was the closest place it stopped.
That’s what the nice man told her.
Her parents and Aunt Mary Rachel talked about it only took thirty-three hours to get from California to the Lone Star State’s capital. Sure seemed way longer than that though. Maybe more like a week.
Thinking of her friend, she regretted missing the party again, but hoped she liked the Red Rooster book MayMee signed especially for her and the special pink satchel Evie begged Mama to get so Sally would have a bag to keep all her books in. Cookie promised to see to it that she got it on time for her party.
Right there at the station, a fancy carriage waited for them. A team of six beautiful horses—that all matched no less—would take them to PawPaw’s. Two men loaded all the bags and trunks then climbed up in the high top seat.
“Why are there two mister drivers, Mama?”
“One will drive, and the other is his helper who makes sure no highway men try to stop us. They say the second man rides shotgun.”
“Like pirates! Except I didn’t see any shotgun. He only had those two big six-shooters—one on each hip like that terrible, mean ol’ Black Bull. ’Member him? The villain Red Rooster had to fight to save Madam Merciful. Do you remember?” She turned to her father. “Daddy, are there pirates here about in Texas?”
“No, but sometimes they have desperadoes.”
“What is a desperado?”
“A bad man who steals.”
“I never heard of one, but MayMee ought to have Red Rooster fight one of those guys, too. Do you suppose Black Bull was a desperado?”
“Could be.”
Why wouldn’t he listen well to her?
He might only be pulling her leg though because he teased her all the time, so she kept an eye out for the truth. She’d really hate getting waylaid or shipwrecked or anything bad. She needed to get to Llano to kiss her pawpaw’s hurts away, just like her mama made hers vanish.
“Evie, wake up. We’re here.”
She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and looked around. Here where? Then she saw the house. Oh, yes, she remembered. “We’re at PawPaw’s already?”
“Yes, dear.”
She waited for her daddy to climb out of the carriage first then leapt off into his arms. He didn’t twirl her. Just set her down. Where’s the fun in that? She backed up a couple of steps then turned and ran up onto the porch, flying to her pawpaw’s room.
A tall boy, one she didn’t know, stood in front of the door. He looked all dressed up in his church clothes like maybe he’d come from a funeral, since it wasn’t Sunday.
“Move, please. You’re in my way.”
“You can’t come in right now. My father and grandfather are tending to the General.”
“Who?” Then she remembered a lot of folks called her grandfather the General on account of he ran the war once. But for a long time, he’d only been PawPaw. “Never you mind. He’s my pawpaw, and I’ve come all the way from San Francisco. That’s in California. So you need to get out of my way.”
The boy shook his head. “No, not yet. They’ll let us know. Who are you anyway?”
“I’m Evelyn May Eversole, but most everyone calls me Evie. Who are you?”
“Nathaniel Nightingale.”
“Who’s your daddy? And your granddaddy? Do I know them? Are you one of my cousins? I have a lot of them.”
“Charley Nightingale’s my pa, and Levi Baylor’s my grandpa. Who’s yours?”
“Oh! Then you probably are my cousin! You see, I know Uncle Charley and Aunt Lacey—she’s your mother.”
“I know.”
“And Levi Baylor? Humph. Everyone knows him, sure enough. He’s the greatest Texas Ranger who ever lived.”
“I know.”
“But how come I don’t you? How old are you, Nathan? I’m six.”
“Not Nathan, Nathaniel. And I’m fifteen. I have no idea why you don’t know me. Maybe because you’ve never been to Clarksville. That’s where we live. Is Aunt CeCe your mama? Or Aunt Mary Rachel?”
“Cecelia Eversole, and Elijah is my father. Now would you please get out of my way? I’m PawPaw’s favorite granddaughter, and I’ve come to kiss him well.”
Nathaniel laughed then shook his head as if he didn’t believe her. She balled both fists, pursed her lips, and glared. But he still didn’t move.
“Evie? Is that my baby girl? Let her in.”
The door opened, and she shot past Mister Nightingale, giving him an elbow and a smirk on her way by. She ran to PawPaw’s bed.

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