Jesse McCann: The Journey (The McCann Family Saga Book 1)

by Jeanie Freeman-Harper

  The dining hall at the Hotel Excelsior was full and lively mid-day. The aroma of stewed and roasted meat filled his nostrils even before he entered. It was then he realized he had not eaten all day. As he looked around for an empty chair, Mr. Percy waved him to his table, even as the other men looked at him with suspicion in their eyes. Nothing seemed to bother Percy. He ran a saloon, after all.

  “Sit down, boy. Order up some of this chicken stew. The dumplings are tender today...even though they're a mite scarce.” Percy slurped up the last spoonful of the aromatic broth, wiped his handlebar mustache, and leaned back to pat his belly in satisfaction. Jesse placed his order, and decided that since Mr. Percy had finished eating, he might ask a few questions about the topic of discussion in Buck's office. Mr. Percy knew everything that went on in Morgans Bluff.

  “I hear there are plans to bring the railroad through to the mill,” said Jesse.

  “Seems so.” Mr. Percy looked at Jesse with narrow eyes and paused before continuing. “Morgan has some of the big railroad barons going over plans...and he's fixin' to take folks land to lay tracks. Don't blame him much. A man does what he must to get ahead.”

  “Maybe. I will admit more logs could be brought out by tram lines and then more lumber distributed by railroad... quicker and farther than by steamboat. I understand it's already being done most places, but its been slow to come to East Texas. The only drawback is a that the landowners would have to lose their property.”

  “You are a greenhorn to the ways of the world, aren’t you McCann? Progress, son! Someone has to lose in the name of progress.”

  Jesse suddenly looked at Mr. Percy from a fresh viewpoint, and after a moment of thought replied evenly: “I would bet it depends on who loses to progress and who has something to gain by it. Surely there's another route to run the rail...one that makes everyone happy.”

  “Don't you know the only folks who need to be happy are Reese Morgan and his family?”

  Jesse shook his head and remained silent. His meal had arrived, and he was too hungry and weary to argue. He decided it was a battle for another day.

  That evening, he met Annie at the bridge and they rode out the the edge of the Boggy Slough. They walked their horses side by side, both silent, until Annie's curiosity got the better of her.

  “I thought you had gone back home for good,” she said.

  “It crossed my mind to stay,” he replied.

  “So what made you decide to come back?”

  “Unfinished business for one thing...but more than anything... you.”

  When he heard her quick intake of breath, he laid down his rifle, turned her to him and pulled her against him. Her hair fell unpinned against his cheek, as his arms encircled her. At that moment he knew he was home...safe and secure in a warm and peaceful place inhabited by two. She allowed him to hold her for a few magical moments, and then she gently pulled away. “I have sick children to tend in Shanty Town, remember?” she whispered. “Come along with me and guard me.”

  “With my very life.”

  “And Jess...”

  “Yes, Annie?”

  “I'm glad you came back.”

  “And I'll never go so far that I can not see you looking at me the way you are right now.”

  They two mounted their horses and rode in sync until they came to the homes along the bog. The moment had ended, but Jesse knew it would be etched in his memory for a lifetime.

  They were met in front of one of the shacks by Mr. Conner, the father of three sick children. His face was tight and sullen, and he stood with arm akimbo and feet planted wide. “The wife and I don't know as we want any kin of Morgan in this house no more. Your grandaddy and them railroad hot-shots has been stirring it up around here.”

  Annie's reply was soft yet firm:“I have nothing to do with what decisions my grandfather makes in regards to the railroad, sir. I am here to tend to your children...if you'll allow it.”

  “See here, Mr. Conner, let Miss Morgan pass,” said Jesse.

  The empty-headed Mr. Conner, stepped aside to allow entry into the home but still would not let up: “Set your rifle down out here, McCann, and you, Miss, can deliver a message to Mr. High and Mighty Morgan from me. Tell him there'll be deep trouble, if anyone tries to come and take this land.” At that, Annie set a firm jaw to stifle her tongue until she could treat the children who were in the throws of spasmodic coughing that wracked their bony bodies. She took a bottle of paregoric she had mixed with honey, dosed each child, and then turned to their parents with blood in her eye:

  “Keep these children out of drafts. If you have no spare wood to seal these cracks between the boards of these walls, stuff them with rags to shut out the dampness and chill...at least until you can get some lumber. Otherwise these children may develop problems far worse than the croup.”

  “Ain’t got no rags, Miss,” whined Mrs. Conner. “What rags we got....we're wearing 'em.”

  “You can do something! You brought these babies into the world. Be responsible for them!”

  Jesse's jaw dropped at seeing this different Annie; yet it was this new crusader side that made him respect her more. He watched in awe, as red-faced, she dropped her petticoat from beneath her skirt and tore it into strips that she stuffed into the cracks in the walls. The Conners were speechless. Then with unsteady hands, Annie tucked her medicines back into her satchel, wrapped the children in quilts and strode from the house. Jesse was right behind her. Shaking from despair, she leaned against Jesse's chest and let go of her frustration:

  “Jess, people bring me a fight that is not mine to win or lose. I have never benefited from my grandfather's business dealings. I am the outsider amongst all Morgan's grandchildren, as was my father amongst his half siblings. What have I to do with the mill or the railroad? I am only someone who tries to help other people's children. I was raised away from everyone by my granny...without Morgan money or privilege and different from birth. I am not even accepted by these people here either...right here in Shanty Town...where my mother grew up. Where do I belong, Jess?”

  Jesse tilted her chin up to look her in the eyes so that he might see through to her soul. He wanted, more than anything else in his life, to cherish and protect this one woman...if she would let him.

  “I'll tell you where you belong,” he whispered hoarsely. “You belong right here in my arms.”

  XII: Trouble Times Two

  His mother's death had brought Jesse to a major decision. He was prepared to make a life in Morgans Bluff, if for no other reason than Annie Morgan. Added to the hope of a life with her was the unsettled score with his biological father who hid behind the protective persona of a small town minister. So it was, with a trace of hesitancy and much hope, Jesse decided to stay with his job at Morgan Mills, even though he knew there had to be something brighter in his future. Yet he was young and strong and able to handle the rough and tumble world of the timber industry. Or so he thought at the time.

  On what began as a perfect spring day, Jesse stood waist deep in the Big Muddy, prodding giant logs as they were pulled from mule drawn wagons and dumped into the river. With a mighty splash they began their journey, lumbering lazily toward the mill, past Jesse, whose muscles tingled from prodding logs where the river was broad and sluggish. As each load floated to a bottle neck, the water grew rapid, and the speed of the load increased many times over. Log after log collided to creating an avalanche up he could no longer control

  “Hold up!” he shouted. “We have a jam!” Back up the river Domingo watched on horseback, and Jesse was certain he must certainly have seen what was happening: “Tell the man to hold up ! He's unloading 'em too fast .We're jammin' up!”

  Still again, the lumberjack hitched the logs to the mules, pulling an overload into the river; and their sheer momentum created an unstoppable force. A rush of deadly logs tumbled recklessly toward Jesse. He ducked, with only a second to spare, taking refuge at the shallow river bottom.

  Remaining under until
his lungs burned from lack of oxygen, he kicked toward the surface where he dodged the last of the lethal load. All the while, Domingo watched from across the Big Muddy, his onyx eyes baleful, his grim mouth twisted with revulsion.

  The one person who saw what had occurred was Buck Hennessy. Rushing toward Jesse, his gait was made awkward by the wooden leg, giving him the appearance of a desperate one legged jack rabbit.

  “Hold up them logs, you fool!” Buck shouted downstream at the driver and then called out to the bull o' the woods: “Domingo, this is not your domain down here. Get on back to your men!”The giant swarthy foreman turned his horse, gave a menacing glare over his shoulder and faded back into the forest.

  “What happened here, boy?” Buck asked as he turned his attention to Jesse.” Have you been injured?”

  “Just...winded...nothing... more .”

  “You right sure about it?”

  “Right sure.”

  Buck pointed to a canteen hanging by strap from his shoulder “Need a shot o' red eye?”

  “No, Mr. Hennessy...I think I need a clear head ….especially now.”

  “Anyhow...I think I'll take a snort,” said Buck as he brought the canteen to his lips and took a hardy gulp.

  “Shush,” Buck said with a wink. “...just a bit of brew for the pain. I can still feel that ol' ghostly limb though gone nigh twenty years .”

  Seemed to Jesse everybody had an excuse to imbibe. Mr. Percy's excuse was rheumatism, and Buck's was a leg long gone and buried, and some of the good church ladies took a hot toddy for “medicinal purposes”. Had Jesse not felt himself in peril, he might well have had a snort after the incident that had just happened. It gave him pause to think: he figured running the railroad tram through the woods might not be a bad thing, if only people would be treated fairly.

  Waves of weariness washed over Jesse, and he longed to return to the hotel and rest; so he decided to forgo his watch that night. And, just maybe, he would run across Annie in town as she went for her occasional evening stroll, assuming there were none sick or dying that needed her healing hands. He wanted and needed the comfort of her presence, because he knew, deep in his gut, the events of that day had been no accident.

  Back at he hotel, Jesse cleaned up and fell into a deep sleep interrupted by the reoccurring dream of the faceless form appearing from out of the forest, and he again awakened feeling uneasy. Yet early evening, he rousted himself down to the dining hall ,where two men in business suits were dining with Reese Morgan, his daughter Lorena Morgan Wyatt and her husband and imposter Brother Wyatt, Jesse's erstwhile father Clinton McCann. From bits of overheard conversation, Jesse figured the topic was the railroad and the need for obtaining the land to build it. He nodded politely as he passed the table but prepared to have his supper alone. He was, after all, the outsider.

  Looking up from his menu, his eyes came to rest on something even more appetizing: Annie as she eased into the chair across from him, smiling and coyly tilting her head to one side while studying his face: “What's this serious look, Jesse McCann? What are you thinking?”'

  “Thinking of a lady who lightens my mood just by walking into the room.”

  At that overt flirtation, she did not blush but stared directly into his eyes until he lost all appetite. He was smitten by this unexpectedly bold yet coquettish Annie.

  “I've come to invite you to Sunday services and dinner at my house afterward. Remember the place where you spent the night after the incident with Tahsha?” Annie arched her eyebrows, and Jesse blushed bright red. Annie continued unabashed:

  “There's a town meeting after services...for the men only... of course. If you care to attend, I will go on ahead to my place and Grandma Minna and I will cook Sunday dinner and wait for you.”

  Jesse thought for a moment before he spoke: “You know I have not set foot in that church in months, but if it means sitting next to the prettiest girl in town, then praise be to the Lord.”

  Annie laughed happily.

  On Sunday, there was standing room only at the white washed church building with the stained glass windows. Brother Elias Wyatt delivered the typical fire and brimstone sermon, and afterward, Reese Morgan commandeered the podium:

  “I'm here today to ask for your co-operation for the good of our community. Most of you folks owe back taxes on your land. If you can not pay, there will be no choice but to seize the land and bring the railroad through. You can relocate with a couple of acres ...enough to keep hogs, chickens and vegetable patches to feed you families. The more ambitious can apply with Buck Hennessy for work laying down railroad ties. There will be jobs for all who care to work.”

  “We're cotton farmers in Shanty Town, Mister! Two acres ain’t nowhere near enough to grow a crop.” came a voice of dissent from the crowd.

  “Cotton farming is dying in East Texas,” countered Morgan.. “The soil is depleted. Your crops have barely produced for several years, and your children go hungry. You folks did not rotate your crops and put the nutrients back into your soil as other southerners have done. Have you forgotten, after all, that you are in timber country? Bringing in this rail will allow Morgan Mills to bring the logs out of the woods to the mill and ship faster and more easily to places far and wide...as is already being done in the northwest!”

  “To hell with Morgan Mills and the railroad! And Hell's where I'll send the buzzards that try to take my land!”

  Jesse recognized the dissenter as Mr. Conner whose sickly children Annie had treated.

  Brother Wyatt jumped to his feet “Watch your language, Conner! Do you forget you are in the house of God?”

  “More like the Devil's den of serpents if you ask me... you hell-bent hypocrite!” came Conner's reply.

  At that remark, Jesse smiled inwardly. Hypocrite is the least of it...if you only knew who the man really is.

  Instantly, men were on their feet, their voices buzzing in a babble of anger like bees being robbed of a hive full of honey.

  “Gentlemen, I am telling you to be seated and remain peaceful...or suffer the consequences!” Morgan ordered. “We have lawmen present to keep the peace!”

  Everyone in the crowd looked about them and at each other in an attempt to determine exactly who that might be. Morgans Bluff had not been able to keep a sheriff in the last ten years.

  “Ain’t no law 'round here, less you mean the goons hired by the railroad to keep us in line!” came the shout from the back of the church. At that remark, bedlam ensued with some men cursing and threatening , all but drowning out the mild mannered, one of whom was Mr. Percy who finally got his say: “Now settle down...all of you. This is a peaceable little town. Why don’t we all stroll over to the tavern and have us a friendly libation?”

  A suddenly jovial and pacified crowd murmured their agreement and began to file out like a pack of sheep; but Brother Wyatt, his sonorous voice shaking with emotion, stopped them in their tracks:

  “If you men leave this church on the Lord's Day and go to a den of iniquity to drink, you will send your souls to eternal damnation!”

  Buck Hennessy hopped up on his one good leg , looking for all the world as if he were about to burst out laughing: “Some of us can't be sent to damnation preacher, 'cause we're already there, and the rest of us don’t have sense enough to know it when we see it.”

  Guffaws filled the little church, and when it subsided, Buck had once last bit of advice: “May I suggest...Mr. Morgan... that you give us your final say on the matter, and be done with it.”

  “Alright. This is the ultimatum: The tax collector will be visiting each of you in Shanty Town in the upcoming weeks. Come up with the cash to pay what you owe ...or relinquish your land for the railroad. It's as simple as the law that has existed since this town was founded.”

  As a renewed clamor fairly shook the little frame church, Jesse walked out of the meeting, mounted Belle, who had been hitched outside, and headed toward his Sunday dinner with Annie. At that moment, nothing else in the world matter
ed---nothing else in his upside down, chaotic world: not the railroad, not the need for resolution with his father nor the peril that might take his life. Everything else could wait.

  XIII: A Significant Sunday

  The new and troublesome year of 1888 afforded Jesse one glorious evening, following the discord of the town meeting . He had been invited to visit with Annie and Granny Minna. After leaving a riotous uproar at the church, the ride provided him a sense of calm. He was content with the experience of early winter in the woodlands: whitetail bucks with fully matured racks flashing across his path, holly bushes with red berries dotting the side of the road, and air clean and fragrant after a light rain. Belle trotted along as spiritedly as if she were a filly.

  Approaching Annie's house, he was met by several geese who honked and nipped playfully at Belle's shins. Three dogs of mixed breed crawled from under the porch, tails wagging their welcome; and a calico cat skittered up the nearest tree to avoid everything. The white-washed cottage with its gingerbread trim was topped by a rock chimney from which a stream of smoke swirled into obscurity against a gray winter sky. As Jesse swung open the gate, the attached cowbells merrily heralded his arrival. He was met by a breathless Annie. She and her Grany Minna welcomed him into a cozy front room femininely done without being fussy: rugs fashioned from remnants of dyed wool woven into Native American patterns , paintings of Texas wildflowers, and Irish lace curtains over tall windows . It was just as he would have expected.

  The food was unpretentious and hearty. The women had cooked a shank of smoked ham and added sweet potatoes from the root cellar and last summer's peas , dry preserved at harvest and simmered back to life on that winter's day. The meal was served in the kitchen next to the warmth of the wood stove, and the three of them ate silently, contentedly.

  Finally, the questions began, as Jesse knew they would. The women were curious about the men's town meeting, wondering what was to become of the poor families in Shanty Town should their land be seized to make way for the railroad. Jesse said as little as possible, fully aware that he was still the outsider: “The railroad is a good thing for the mill and for Morgans Bluff. Surely a deal can be struck that will please all.”