Free Chasing the Sun by Tracie Peterson Page B

been with the Comanche.
    “We cannot bake a cake unless we get more flour,” Juanita said. “Do you think the store has any?”
    Hannah shrugged and passed a plate of ham to Berto. “It’s hard to say. The supplies come in so seldom these days. If you can spare me from the wash, I’ll have Berto drive me into town and see what’s to be had. I need to check in with Mr. Lockhart anyway and see if . . . if he’s heard from Father.”
    “I’ll hitch a ride in with you, if you don’t mind,” William said. “My leg makes walking that distance a bit of a challenge.”
    Hannah figured this to be a simple way to make peace with the man. After all, it would be a poor example to continue holding him a grudge. It wouldn’t be the right attitude to show her siblings.
    “You are welcome to ride with me, Mr. Barnett. Perhaps Mr. Lockhart will have answers for both of us.”
    He nodded and dug into his food without another word. Hannah meanwhile sipped her coffee and hoped that she wasn’t making a grave mistake by involving Herbert Lockhart. She didn’t want trouble, and it seemed trouble always had a way of finding her when that man was involved.

     
    In town, William wasn’t surprised to find folks rather hostile toward him. Those who knew him and his family seemed unwilling to forget that he’d gone to fight for the Union. At the mercantile, Nelson Pritchard, who had once been a good friend to William’s father, barely said two words when William entered the store.
    Glancing around the place, William could see that the inventory was low compared to how it had been in the past. Hannah circulated amongst the aisles, picking up an item or two as she went. William watched her, curious. She was certainly feisty.
    He observed her hoop skirt sway as she maneuvered through stacks of empty crates. She wasn’t dressed all that fancy, but he thought she cut a fine figure of a woman. He stood waiting near the checker barrel and pondered the situation. There had to be some way to remove the hostilities between them. The chiding he’d given her regarding the Comanche was for her own good. She’d been foolish to walk out into the fracas. Still, if he was going to settle this matter with the ranch, he might very well need to appeal to her kindness.
    He’d seen that kindness extended to Night Bear. Surely she could spare a little for him, as well.
    “William Barnett. I didn’t think we’d see you in Cedar Springs again,” Mrs. Pritchard said, coming from a back room.
    William turned to face the older woman. She offered him nothing more than a disapproving stare. He smiled and gave her a slight nod. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
    She gave a huff and maneuvered by him as though he were diseased. “We figured you’d head north and stay there.”
    “I’m not a Unionist, Mrs. Pritchard,” William said. “I’m a Texan. And I intend to stay a Texan.”
    “Well, a good Texan wouldn’t go off fighting for the Yankees,” she said, tying an apron around her thick waist. “Where’s your father and brother?”
    William grimaced. “They were killed in the war. Killed by Confederate soldiers. I was wounded and left crippled. Perhaps I should allow that to make me feel hostile toward you and the others who have supported the South. But frankly, I don’t see that it serves any good purpose.”
    “Your people were traitors,” Nelson Pritchard said, joining his wife. “You are a traitor. You put on that Yankee uniform. You got what you deserved.”
    “Mr. Pritchard,” Hannah Dandridge interrupted, “do you by any chance have flour?”
    “We have a bit, Miss Hannah,” the man replied, turning away from William. “It’s mighty costly.”
    “Well, I’ll take some anyway. We have a birthday cake to make for Diego Montoya.”
    Pritchard nodded and headed for the flour barrel. “We managed to get some supplies in from some Southern sympathizers out of the Colorado Territory. It’s costing us more than it ought to,