Man Called Ty Read online

  “Can I trust the sentry?”

  “No, but at least you’ll know who to blame if she’s gone when you get back.” “I don’t have any Yankee money. What can I pay the sentry with?”

  “If you have extra cartridges for that Spencer rifle, I’ll pay you ten Yankee dollar for a box of them. The sentry will watch your horse for a dollar. How about it?”

  Ty had plenty of cartridges so he said, “You’ve got a deal.”

  They made the exchange, and Ty continued on. When he reached the gate, he rode in and, as the man had said, the sentry didn’t try to stop him. The sentry was a young Union soldier with blue eyes and a pleasant smile.

  “Would you watch my horse for a dollar?” Ty asked. “I’m here to find my father.”

  The soldier was courteous and said, “Go into the office and tell them that you’re looking for your father. They’ll be glad to see you. They’re looking for any way to get rid of their patients.” He took the reigns and said, “Sure, I’ll watch your horse for a dollar.” Ty handed him a dollar and walked into the tent that served as an office. Inside, he saw another soldier, with droopy eyes, sitting at a desk.

  “I’m looking for my father, Captain Drew Terel.”

  The soldier didn’t say a word. He got up and led Ty to the opening of a long tent with two rows of beds. “Droopy” made a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating that Ty was welcome to look, then turned and went back to his desk.

  Two tired-looking nurses were attending to more than fifty patients. One of the nurses glanced at Ty as he walked past. He acknowledged her glance with a nod, and continued looking at each emaciated form. He had expected this to be unpleasant, but it was even worse than he had imagined. It was almost overwhelming. The smell of death permeated the air. He walked the full length of the tent and was relieved that he had not seen his father. Out of respect for the dying men, he was walking back slowly when he heard a raspy whisper.

  “Ty!”

  Startled, Ty stopped, turned, and stared at what had been a powerful man. The man’s eyes were sunken; his skin clung to his bony face and arms. Ty didn’t recognize him until he looked more closely. Then he recognized the eyes of his father looking back at him. There were tears in his father’s eyes, but there was also a smile on his haggard face.

  In a forced whisper, Drew said, “Ty! I’m so glad to see you . . . . I had about given up hope.” He paused, trying to catch his breath and hide his pain. “I’ve been clinging to life, hoping that you might come. I want to know about Ruth. Is she all right? And how is Adeline?”

  Ty grasped his father’s shriveled hands—hands that once were strong and capable—and replied, “They’re well. Ever since the signing of the peace treaty, Mother’s been watching the road for you. When you didn’t return, she asked me to look for you. We lost the war and the South has been devastated. We’ll have to rebuild. Ol’ Blaze is tied up outside. I’m going to get you outta here. Where are your clothes? I gotta get you dressed. Are you strong enough to travel?” Trying to hide his emotions, Ty looked at his father and realized he was talking too much.

  “Son, I want outta here, but there’s something you gotta know. I’m dying, but I don’t want to die here. I want to see the sky, hear water rippling in a stream, and birds singing once more.... It’s wonderful that your mother is well. I have a letter under my pillow. Would you take it to her? I’d like for you and Adeline to read the letter, also. It’s good to see that you’ve grown into the kind of man I always knew you would. Will you tell Adeline that I love her, and that I’m proud of her?”

  “Yes, Father, but I’m going to get you well and take you home.”

  “Thank you, son, I know you’ll try, but there is no hope. I caught a bullet in my shoulder. There was no medicine so the wound became infected, and the poison got into my blood. There’s no cure, so don’t blame yourself. It would have been no different even if you had gotten here sooner.” He paused, trying to hide his pain. “I can’t walk. You’re going to have to get a cart to haul me. Take me into the country and let me die like a man, then bury me in a meadow near some trees.”

  With tears running down his face, Ty replied, “You wait right here, Father. I’ll get a cart. Blaze can pull it.”

  Drew smiled faintly and said, “I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere until you get back.”

  Ty saw the humor; it was so like his father to see the funny side of a situation that was so hopeless. Hurrying to the sentry’s post, Ty said, “I need a cart!”

  “There’s an old two-wheeler in back of the tent,” the sentry replied. “I don’t think anyone will mind if you take it—the chains are still attached.”

  Ty led Blaze around behind the tent. Using his rope to make a harness, he hooked her to the cart and led her to the front. He didn’t even stop to talk to the droopy-eyed attendant. He hurriedly walked in and told the nurse, “I’m taking my father with me.”

  The nurse said, “Hold on a minute! I gotta tell the doctor.” By the time the doctor arrived, Ty had used blankets to make a pallet on the cart and had lifted his father onto it. “Do you have any pain killer?” he asked the doctor.

  “We have a little laudanum,” the doctor replied, “but your father doesn’t want it. He wants to be aware of what is going on. I had better tell you, he probably won’t last through the day. He’s dying, you know.”

  “Yes, Doctor, he told me, but I’m going to get him outta this stench and into the fresh air, where he can die as he lived, with dignity.”

  “God bless you, and good luck.” Holding his father’s hand, Ty walked beside the cart as Ol’ Blaze pulled it northbound. Pain showed on his father’s face, but there was gladness there, also. Ty thought back to the time his father had left to fight for the Confederacy—he was handsome in his uniform, strong and proud. In mid-afternoon, they came to a stream, and Ty stopped.

  Drew sighed and said, “I see the blue sky, I hear rippling water and birds singing. Thank you, son . . . . When you see clouds silhouetted against the sky, or leaves rippling in the wind, when you see starlight glistening off a pond, I’ll be there. Tell your mother that I love her . . . .” The light faded from his eyes—and death came peacefully. His father was gone.

  Ty embraced him and cried, “Father, how am I going to tell Mother and Adeline!” He felt the letter in his pocket—it was his father’s last words to his mother, and it was very important. Ty sat remembering the good times he and his father had shared—no more would they go hunting, fishing, and camping—no more would they go exploring in the wilds . . . . The sun set slowly and its brilliant colors cascaded across the sky, but Ty’s heart was heavy, his eyes full of tears. This was the sunset of his father’s last day. The next morning, Blaze woke Ty by nuzzling his face; he didn’t remember falling asleep. He got up, patted her on the neck, and then led her, with the cart still attached, to a hillside where he buried his father in a meadow by some trees. He knelt beside the grave for a time and then realized he hadn’t eaten for days. He found and ate a few berries, said goodbye to his father, climbed on Ol’ Blaze and started home.

  It seemed a long time since he had left the farm. He had changed . . . . somehow the journey had changed him . . . . he was no longer a boy.

  Chapter 3

  Each day Ty rolled out of his bedroll at first light, fixed a meal and rode north, avoiding cities and towns. The country provided everything he needed, and he was eager to get home. He didn’t know why, but he had a nagging feeling that something was wrong.

  The early autumn nights were getting cold, and sometimes it rained so hard that he had to find shelter. As soon as it stopped, he rode on. After many days, he saw the Cumberland River from the top of a mountain. I’ll reach home sometime tomorrow. I can hardly wait to see Mother and Addie. I wish I could have brought Father home with me.

  After getting nearer to his farm, Ty passed the homes of his neighbors, but he didn’t recognize the people sitting on the porches. That’s odd, but the war has changed many
things. I’ll stop and talk after I’ve seen Mother and Addie. He didn’t have a watch, but it must have been about noon when the farmhouse came into view. He didn’t see anyone, but he noticed a buggy and two horses in front of the house. That’s strange—those horses belong to us, but surely, Mother hasn’t bought a buggy. Two men wearing dark suits walked out as Ty rode up. Ty stepped down and threw his reins over the hitching rail. The men watched him questioningly.

  “I’m Tyree Terel and this is my home. May I help you in any way?”

  The tall man with deep-set, dark eyes barked, “Yes. You can get off our land!”

  “I must have misunderstood you,” Ty said. “How did this become your land? And what are you doing with my horses hooked to your buggy?”

  The other man—a little shorter and a little heavier—replied, “We bought this land and all its animals from the lady who lived here, and we paid her a good price for it, too.”

  “Where is she now?” Ty asked.

  “Why should we know? I think she and the girl went to live with some of their friends.”

  “Do you have a bill of sale showing that you bought this farm?” Ty asked, knowing something was wrong.

  The heavyset man arrogantly replied, “We sure do. We don’t have it on us, of course, but the sale is registered at the courthouse and witnessed by the sheriff.”

  The tall man, with his hand poised over his gun, said,

  “Now, get off this land before I throw you off!”

  “Mister,” Ty said quietly, “if you reach for that gun, you’ll be a dead man before it clears your holster.”

  No longer so sure of himself, the tall man let his hand drop.

  “You come with us,” the tall man demanded. “We’ll let the sheriff settle this.”

  Still watching closely, Ty got back into the saddle and said, “I’ll go talk to the sheriff myself. I’ve known Sheriff Tate all my life. I’ll be back as soon as I find out what’s going on here.”

  He rode away, his mind spinning. He was worried sick about his mother and Addie. None of this made any sense!

  Ty heard a horse galloping and looked back to see Beau Fontainne, the young man Addie had shown an interest in, overtaking him. Ty pulled back on his reins and said, “Whoa!”

  Blaze stopped, and Beau rode up.

  Beau’s blue eyes and sandy hair were almost hidden by his hat. Looking concerned, Beau said, “I’m glad to see you. I got home a few days ago and rode over to see Addie, but she and your mother were gone. I asked everybody I knew where they were, but nobody knew anything.

  “Carpetbaggers have taken over everything, and people are afraid to ask or answer questions. When I asked the men at your farm where the people were who had been living there, they said the woman and her daughter had left town. I asked the men what they were doing there, and they said they had bought the farm, and I’d better not come back. So I went to see Sheriff Tate and discovered that Tate isn’t the sheriff anymore. Somebody shot him in the back and replaced him with a gunslinger named Hugh Pothman. Pothman is a mean-looking bastard. I didn’t know what to do, so I decided to wait until you got back.”

  “This is all beginning to add up,” Ty said. “I’m glad to see you, too, Beau,” as they resumed riding. “When I left to find my father, you hadn’t yet returned, and Addie was wondering where you were. What happened?”

  “Almost on the last day of the war, I took a bullet in my shoulder. They had to dig it out, so they held me for a few weeks. I got lucky; I didn’t get blood poisoning.”

  “Father took a bullet about the same way, only he wasn’t lucky. I found him dying in a hospital in Atlanta and buried him in a meadow in north Georgia.”

  “I’m sorry, Ty. Your father was one of the finest and most respected men in the Cumberland Valley. Everyone will miss him. Carpetbaggers are forcing people off their land and taking over all the best farms. The hill people aren’t affected yet, and I think they’ll join us if we have to fight, but you gotta remember, we lost the war, and these carpetbaggers have everything stacked in their favor. If we try to fight back, they’ll call in the army.” Beau looked at Ty. “Are you going to check the records for the sale of your farm? I’d like to go with you. I want to know what’s happened to Addie.”

  “That’s where I’m going, all right. I’m worried about Mother and Addie. I have to find out what’s happened at the farm. I think I know what I’m going to find. Carpetbaggers have their people in office, and they’ve got everything all tied up, neat and fancy. Somebody is going to have to tell me where Mother and Addie are and damn soon, or there’s going to be hell to pay.”

  “You’d better look out for that new sheriff. They say he’s good with his gun. People who’ve seen him draw say he’s about as fast as you are.”

  “I’m not looking for a fight—I’m just looking for Mother and Addie. You’re welcome to come along, but I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

  “I’ll try to stay outta trouble, but don’t forget, I have an interest in this, too,” Beau replied.

  When they got to the courthouse, it was as Ty had expected. Ruth Terel’s signature was on the bill of sale, and the new sheriff had witnessed the signature. However, there was one thing wrong—the bill of sale was signed ‘Ruth Terel,’ but it wasn’t her signature.

  Ty whispered to Beau, “Mother’s signature is very distinctive because she's left-handed. All of the business people in town will recognize that this signature is a forgery. The only thing left for me to do is to determine if the sheriff was aware that he witnessed a false signature.” Ty unhooked his gun belt, handed it to Beau, and said, “Please put this in my saddlebag and wait for me by the General Store. I’m going to talk to the new sheriff.”

  “You’re not taking your gun?” Beau exclaimed. “Are you afraid of the sheriff?”

  “No, being afraid has nothing to do with it. The sheriff has the authority to ask me for my gun while I’m in town, and if he asks for it I’d have to give it to him. I don’t need a gun to do what I’m going to do. I want to find out if Pothman knows where Mother and Addie are. If he’s in on this, and I think he is: he might tell me where they are.”

  “Hey, that’s pretty smart! I’ll be waiting at the edge of town.”

  Ty walked down the dusty street to the sheriff’s office and noticed the townspeople standing in front of their stores, watching. They’re expecting a killing, but they don’t know which man they’ll be burying. They seem disappointed that I’m not wearing my gun.

  The sheriff was expecting Ty and had been watching from his window. He was not disappointed to see that Ty was not wearing a gun. People had told him of Ty’s skills. The sheriff was a killer, but he was no fool. After seeing that Ty was unarmed, he went to his desk, sat down, and started shuffling papers, wanting to appear nonchalant.

  Ty entered, walked directly to the sheriff’s desk, and looked down at him. The sheriff gestured to a chair, indicating that he wanted Ty to sit.

  Ty ignored the gesture and spoke directly. “Sheriff, I saw where you witnessed my mother’s signature on the bill of sale to our farm. Do you know where she and my sister are?”

  “No, I have no idea. I was told that they went looking for you. I thought they must have found you when the people told me you were back in town.”

  “They may have gone to live with my mother’s people,” Ty lied. He wanted to know if the sheriff had actually seen his mother. Continuing with his deception, he said, “Mother’s part Cherokee, you know. I’m sure you noticed her coal-black hair and black eyes when you witnessed her signature.”

  The sheriff stood up and nodded. “Yeah, I noticed that, all right. I’ll bet that’s what happened—they went to the Cherokee village. That would account for everything.”

  Now, Ty was certain that this sheriff had never seen Mother or Addie. The two men at the farm were probably the only ones who knew where they were.

  “Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll go to the Cherokee village, and I’m sure I’ll
find them.”

  As Ty was leaving, the sheriff asked, “Where’s your gun? People tell me that you’re very good with it.”

  “Nah, Sheriff, that story has been exaggerated. I’ve won a couple of turkey shoots and shot a few varmints. That’s all.”

  The less this sheriff knows, the better I like it. He’s sure of himself now, and that’s definitely to my advantage. People watched as Ty walked back to where Beau was waiting.

  Ty took his gun belt from the saddlebag, threw it around his waist, and buckled it. “Beau,” he said, “I’m going back to the farm and there’s bound to be trouble. Perhaps you shouldn’t get involved.”

  “I won’t go to the farm with you, but I’ll find a place where I can stay outta sight and watch. If I see that you need help, I’ll step in. Something strange is going on, and I want to know what it is.”

  “Fine, but people are watching, and we shouldn’t be seen riding together. I suggest you ride away as though you were going home. That way, nobody will think that you’re a part of what is sure to happen at the farm. I’ll see you later.”

  “Be careful, Ty,” Beau replied. “I don’t like the way this is shaping up, and I’m really getting worried about Addie.”

  “I’m not looking for trouble, but as soon as I find Mother and Addie, I’m going to take my farm back. I can prove that that is not Mother’s signature on that bill of sale.”

  “I’ll cover your back and I’ll see you later,” Beau said as he rode away in the direction of his home.

  The road to the Terel farm was lined with trees and shrubs, and Ty knew every bush and every tree, so he was able to stay out of sight until he was near the house. He stopped, hidden by the trees, and looked carefully. The buggy was gone, and no one was in sight. He tethered Blaze and walked the rest of the way.

  Ty wanted to get inside before anybody saw him, but the men had locked the front door. He went to the back door and it was latched from the inside. He had made the latch, so he knew how to unlatch it from the outside. He opened the door.