Will spread his hands. “I’m not sure. But he won’t come himself. He’ll send somebody. My guess is he’ll send Sheriff Rickert.”
Maggie shook her head. “I used to think highly of Sheriff Rickert, back before the war. Father told us to always ride with the law and not against it.”
“That’s good advice,” Will said, “so long as the law remains the law.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean your daddy was right about sticking to the law. And we are. If Rickert comes out here, defending that old kidnapper, he’s not the law, badge or no badge.”
“That makes sense. And it makes me feel better.” She studied him for a moment. “Did you hate my father?”
“Hate your father?” Will laughed. “No, ma’am. Your daddy was a good man. I thought highly of him.”
“But he wore the blue.”
“I’m aware of that.”
She gave him a playful shove. “You know what I mean.”
“Your daddy had his beliefs, and I had mine.”
“Father hated slavery.”
“I was never a fan myself. Makes no sense, if you think about it, one man owning another.”
“I agree, Will. Slavery is an evil institution.”
“It is. But Lincoln didn’t have to invade the South. Slavery was on its way out. He talks a lot about the Union, but he overstepped his bounds. Diplomacy might’ve taken longer, but it would’ve saved an awful lot of lives on both sides.”
“Father knew the losses would be terrible. That was another reason he opposed secession. He feared it would tear everything apart.”
“It did a pretty good job of it.”
“Do you regret wearing the gray?”
Will cocked a brow, looking at her like she was crazy. “Regret wearing the gray? No, ma’am. Not for one second. Not ever.”
“I’m sorry, Will. I didn’t mean to suggest you should. Not at all. It’s just you understood Father’s point of view, so?—”
“War is a funny thing, Maggie. A funny, terrible thing. Especially this one. Most times, men don’t have a choice. They get conscripted and go fight. This war, we had a choice. Your daddy chose the union, I chose home. That doesn’t mean I can’t understand his perspective or even agree with him on some points. At the end of the day, though, I’m a Texan first and an American second.”
“That makes sense,” Maggie said. They were quiet for a moment. Then she asked, “What would have happened if you and Father had met on the field of battle?”
“We would have fought each other,” Will said. “Once the sides are drawn up, you’re fighting for your life and the lives of your brothers-in-arms. When you’re up against an enemy who’s trying to wipe you out, you do your best to destroy them. Everything is very simple then, very straightforward. It’s survival. But praise God, your daddy and me never found ourselves in that situation.”
“I sure am glad. I never could have forgiven you if you’d killed Father. Did you hate it?”
“What, the war?”
“Yes.”
Will looked at her. There was something about Maggie that made him want to be straight with her, to tell her everything, but at the same time, he had learned it was utterly futile to discuss war with anyone who hadn’t experienced it.
Had he hated the war?
Yes, bitterly.
But that wasn’t the whole story.
