The Bill of Sale

The Bill of Sale

Ed Wooten

           The flickering flames of the fireplace created dancing shadows around the room. Sarah placed another log on the grate and watched as the small flames struggled to ignite it.

           She returned to the table, sipped her coffee, and prepared to reread the letter from her sons, Ned and Tom. Sheriff Bart Johnson had delivered the letter to her earlier today. Since her husband’s death, Sheriff Bart made periodic visits to Sarah’s cabin to ensure she was okay.

           Sarah and her husband lived in Texas’ Llano Estacado region just north of Palo Duro Canyon for most of their lives. They lived on 6400 acres that James’ dad obtained as part of the Republic of Texas’ land grant in 1821. James’ dad gave the land to them as a wedding gift. She and James were married twenty-three years prior to his death six months ago, May 1870.

She turned up the wick of the lantern on the table so she could clearly see to read. She picked up the letter that was laying beside her Bible that always sat on the table. As she unfolded the letter, she “spoke” to James, or at least, his spirit, “James, for the first winter in twenty-three years, I’m without you. To make things worse, our two sons are somewhere in south Texas as I face a new chapter of life where I’m totally alone to face the winter.” 

Her two sons signed on as wranglers for a cattle drive four months ago. The boys were really young men, ages 18 and 15, but to Sarah, they’d always be her babies. The letter, postmarked from Santa Angela, was her first since they had left. She knew the letter probably had traveled from Santa Angela to San Antonio to Santa Fe before making it to their little town just east of the New Mexico border.           

           She reread the portion of the letter where the boys said they bought her a present.

           We went to the general store here in Santa Angela to get some jerky and sugar cookies and saw some really pretty rocks. The owner said they’re azurite-malachite. We bought you one. We should get to San Antone in three weeks. We’re looking forward to seeing the Alamo. Will write more later. Your boys, Ned and Tom

           Sarah wiped tears from her cheeks, closed her eyes, and said a brief prayer. “Thank you, Lord, for taking care of my boys. Amen.”

           For the past month, Sarah had been cleaning and reorganizing the cabin in preparation for winter. “Time to declutter,” she had told Sheriff Bart when he had asked about her reorganization. She leaned over in her chair and reached for the chest that she had removed from the loft earlier in the day.  She pulled it closer to her so she could easily look at its contents, old documents and newspaper clippings, but mostly old clothes.

           After removing a few shirts, she picked up a folded piece of paper, yellowed with age. She unfolded it and immediately smiled. It was a handmade valentine, the first one she ever received from James. As she gazed at the faded ink, she recalled the day he gave it to her. Up until that time, she had considered James a pest who always taunted and aggravated her. In her mind, she reflected, “As school was dismissed on Valentine’s Day of the third grade, that pesky James Morgan ran up to me, handed me a bunch of flowers, a folded piece of paper, and bolted toward his house. I looked at the flowers and put the paper in my notebook—I’d read it when I got home. At home, I unfolded the paper. It was a valentine in James’s handwriting. “Happy Valentine Day. I picked the daisies to go with this because in class you said daisies are your favorite flowers. James.” Foolish James, the “daisies” were a weed that resembled daisies—real daisies didn’t bloom for another two months.”

As she refolded the paper, she reached for her Bible. She opened it and looked at the “daisies” that were still pressed inside. She tenderly closed her Bible and returned her attention to the other items in the chest.  

She sorted various shirts, sweaters, and pants. “Looks like moths got to some of these.” Removing the last of the clothing, she saw a cardboard file folder at the bottom of the chest. Opening the folder, she found receipts, bills of lading, and other legal documents. As she filtered through the documents, one caught her eye. It was a bill of sale for horses bought by the US Army. Not unusual. James and his dad had sold to the Army throughout their lives, but this one piqued her interest.

           Upon examination, she realized it was for horses sold to the Army’s Second Cavalry in San Antonio, Texas. The bill of sale was dated May 17, 1856, with James’s signature as the seller. The buyer’s signature was “US Army, Second Cavalry, Robert E. Lee, Lieutenant Colonel.”

           Sarah laughed until tears trickled from her eyes. This bill of sale confirmed what James had been telling her and the boys for years. Toward the end of the Civil War, when newspapers constantly named Grant, Sherman, and Lee as the pivotal generals, James often stated he had met General Lee when he was in San Antonio.

           Ned and Tom skeptically responded, “Sure, Dad, and we bet you met President Lincoln and Santa Anna, too.”

           James always staunchly defended his assertion by saying, “I did, I’m sure. We took over fifty cattle and over one hundred horses to San Antonio to market and before we could get to the market, this Army officer came by and hand-picked over forty of the horses for use by his cavalry unit.”

           “Sure, Dad,” the boys would say, smile, and move on to another topic.

           Sarah placed the bill of sale in her Bible to show Ned and Tom that their dad had, in fact, done business with Robert E. Lee.

           She turned down the wick and extinguished the lantern’s flame. From a distance, she heard a coyote’s wail. The wail stirred no alarm. She went to bed and snuggled beneath a quilt and a blanket. The dying flames in the fireplace flickered.

Before sleep peacefully overcame her, she whispered, “James really did meet Robert E. Lee.”