by Lynn Donovan
“This looks like a good spot. Now, come here, and I’ll lift you to where you can get this winder open, then you slide inside and find that box.”
Jackson placed his foot on Goodnight’s knee and sprang up toward the widow. He pulled a pocket knife out of his britches and wedged it into the window lock to slide it over and then pushed the sash open. Pushing against Goodnight’s leg, Jackson pressed his hands on the rock ledge and pushed himself to his waist into the window.
“What’s going on here?” A man’s voice bellowed from the crashing rain.
Goodnight and Rodriguez didn’t say a word, but Jackson could no longer feel Goodnight’s hands on his legs. He did hear the splatter of feet running away in the rain. Then he felt stronger hands take his legs and pull him from the window.
Angry, he turned to see who had pulled him down.
“Mr. McMillan!”
“What do you think you’re doing, Jackson?” McMillan growled through gritted teeth, and his eyes burned with anger.
“You don’t understand. I was helping—“ He looked for Goodnight and Rodriguez, but they were nowhere to be seen.”
Jackson huffed. “Now you done it! They were gonna pay me after—I was helping them retrieve something that was stolen from their boss.”
Mac frowned. “By breaking and entering the gunsmith shop?”
“Well, yeah. No, it’s not breaking and entering when you’re just taking something back that got took wrongfully in the first place.”
Mac squeezed his eyes closed and pursed his lips. “Son, what exactly did they tell you to do once you were inside there?”
Thunder and lightning cracked and flashed at the same time. Jackson stiffened and pressed against the stone wall. “What do you care?”
McMillan’s jaw muscles bulged. He wiped a hand down his face. “I care a great deal. You’re lucky it’s me walking up on you doing this and not Marshal Sewell. He’d put you in jail and then go get your momma. You really want your momma upset because you broke the law?”
“How’d you know Flora’s my momma? And I weren’t breaking the law!” Jackson yelled against the roar of the pouring rain. “I was getting a man’s property back to him. They were going to pay me to help them. ’Cause I’m limber as a willow, and can get in and out easily.”
“Sure you can, son. You’re a young boy and as you saw, the minute I said something, they run off. They probably weren’t going to pay you nothing either.” McMillan shivered but it had nothing to do with the rain. “Jackson, think about it! If they were having you do something that wasn’t illegal, why’d they run off and leave you dangling from that window?”
“Well… I—“ Jackson’s shoulders rounded. “You messed everything up. Why’d you come over here and mess everything up? Now I’ll never get that BB gun.”
“BB gun?” Mac stepped back a step. “You’re breaking and entering for money to buy a BB gun?”
“No. I weren’t breaking and entering, I told ya. I was—“
“Yeah, I know what you told me. Look.” Mac wiped the rain from his face. “Let’s go over to your… the Lucky Lady and let’s talk reasonably about this.”
“I ain’t going nowhere with you.”
“Son, we need to talk.” McMillan took a firm grip on Jackson’s arm.
Jackson pulled away but couldn’t free his arm. “You work for Flora, you don’t got no claim over me.” He couldn’t get his arm out of McMillan’s vice grip. “Leave me alone!”
“Stop this! You need to come to the Lucky Lady and we all need to sit down and talk, son!”
“Stop calling me son!” Jackson bucked like an unbroke colt against McMillan’s grip. Their rain-saturated clothes clung to their torsos and slung water from their flailing limbs. “You ain’t my daddy!”
Lightning flashed at the same time as the thunder cracked, rattling the glass in the windows. McMillan gritted his teeth, tightening his hold. “Yes! I! Am!”
Jackson suddenly stopped fighting. He blinked against the pouring rain running down his face. “You-you are?”
“Yes, son, I am.” McMillan gently pulled Jackson. “Come on, let’s go talk to your… to Flora.”
“How-how do ya know?”
“Flora told me.”
The fight had completely drained from Jackson. McMillan didn’t have to hold his arm. They walked side by side to the Lucky Lady and slipped through the bat-wing doors. Jackson stared at the wooden floor. He shoved his hands in his pockets as best he could in rain soaked material. Flora’s glare bore down on him as he traversed the saloon expanse. She always knew when he had done something to get into trouble, even before he told her what he’d done.
Wet footprints trailed behind them both as they made their way to Flora’s office. McMillan guided him back to her office and Jackson flopped into Flora’s guest chair. He’d sat here many times during the day, but he’d never been here while the saloon was lively and full of customers. It was almost scary sitting here at this time of an evening, because it meant he was in bigger trouble than usual. McMillan opened a closet and pulled a wool blanket from the shelf. He dropped it over Jackson’s shoulders.
Flora’s skirts rustled as she entered her office just far enough to keep one eye on the saloon, and one on Jackson and Mac. “What’s the meaning of this? He looks half drowned.”
“Flora. I know you told me… Jackson was not my concern, but I’m telling ya, Goodnight had him convinced that stealing was doing right. I found him halfway into the gunsmith’s forge room, and Goodnight and Rodriguez took off running when I said something.”
Flora turned a sharp, angry eye on Jackson. “This true?”
“No! Well, yes, but I wasn’t stealing nothing. It’s not stealing when you’re takin’ somethin’ back that belongs to a fella’s boss in the first place.”
Flora’s eyes narrowed. Her mouth gapped open. “What?”
Mac told her what Jackson had told him about Goodnight’s plan to get the Smith and Wesson mold from the new gunsmith. Her cheeks grew a brighter crimson as she listened. “Jackson! Surely you know a con story when you hear one. What were you thinking?”
“He wasn’t thinking,” Mac blurted. “He’s got his eye on a BB gun at the mercantile and Goodnight’s offer to give him a lot of coin made him…stupid!”
Flora turned on Mac. “Don’t you ever call my son stupid!”
“He’s my son too, and if he’s gonna act stupid, I’m gonna call it like it is, Flora.”
Diamond slipped to the office door. “SHHH! Hold it down. The customers are wondering what’s going on in here.”
Flora closed her eyes. “You.” She turned on Jackson. “Go home. Straight home! And you—” She turned on Mac. “Get back to your duties behind the bar.”
She drew in a long, deep, calming breath, pinched her skirts to lift them slightly, and sashayed out of her office. Mac paused to give Jackson a stern look. The boy dropped his gaze, but his jaw was tight. He shoved past Mac and stormed out the back door.
Mac stared at the closed door for a moment longer, then heard several men yelling for drinks.
“I’ll be right there.” He yelled back and hurried to where he promised Flora he’d be for as long as she needed him.
Morning sunlight filled Flora’s house with an after-rain freshness, and a chilling silence filled it with an uncomfortable tension. Even Hazel went about her chores in the kitchen without uttering a single word. Jackson slipped into his place at the table and ate the breakfast Hazel slid in front of him.
“You mad at me, too?” Jackson grumbled.
Hazel stopped and planted meaty fists on her abundant hips. Her lips alternated between pressing into an angry growl and opening to utter something, but words did not form. She snorted a sigh and turned her back to the boy. Taking her frustrations out on cleaning the cooking pots, she grumbled under her breath.
Jackson just hung his head and shoved food in his mouth. When he’d cleaned his plate, he leapt to his feet and plopped his hat
on his head. “I’ll be in the carriage house.”
“Don’t leave this property!” Hazel snapped at him.
“I know! I ain’t stupid!” He slammed the back door harder than he’d intended. At least the horses wouldn’t give him the cold shoulder. He set about mucking out stalls and accepted the horse’s nuzzling. Their show of affection felt very welcome after Flora and Hazel’s harsh treatment.
And Mr. McMillan.
His father.
He had a pa after all. He’d always wondered. Had even asked a time or two, but Flora always had a knack for avoiding a direct answer and changed the subject so quick, he’d forget he’d asked until later and realize she’d never really given him an answer. What would this mean for him? Flora and Jackson had a rhythm to their life. He acted like he was her hired hand and she acted like he wasn’t her natural born son. Hazel oversaw his well-being like a second mother. He knew he was safe. It didn’t matter much that Flora didn’t exactly acknowledge him as her son. And he had the freedom to go about town earning money for himself, especially now that there were so many widows needing help.
But learning that this new barkeep was more than just an old friend of Flora’s. They had a lot more than a history. They had a son. Him.
Why hadn’t they married? Why’d she run off and let Jackson be born a bastard? He’d heard the name said of him plenty of times. He never let it bother him before, but now he knew the man who should have married Flora and could have made them a family. What went wrong? What was wrong with Jackson that McMillan didn’t want to be his father?
Jackson’s anger slowly built from a small flame to a raging, all-consuming blaze. He mucked out the stalls with such furious fervor that even the horses, who were normally his consistent companions, backed away from him. They lifted their heads and blew agitation through their big lips, pawing at the ground. He couldn’t care less how uncomfortable he was making them. He was furious and wanted answers. Finally, he slapped the horses on their rumps and made them get into their cleaned stalls, locked their doors, and marched back into the house.
“Hazel, where’s Flora!” he demanded as he shoved his dirty boots from his feet and stomped into the kitchen in his stocking feet.
She looked up at him in surprise and then nodded toward the parlor. Jackson strode that direction, but halted when he saw McMillan sitting with Flora. They both had cups in their hands and looked as though they were having a pleasant chat over a morning coffee.
His temper boiled over like an unwatched pot of porridge.
“Well! What a surprise! Are you two discussing my punishment? Mommy and Daddy determining how to make the boy understand what he done wrong?” Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke.
“Jackson!” Flora stood.
McMillan followed her lead and stood, too. “Look, I realize last night didn’t go exactly as you had planned and my telling you that I’m your… father was a big surprise, but let’s just sit down and talk about this.”
Jackson huffed and flopped into a chair. His eyes burned with rage. Flora glanced at McMillan and then turned her attention to Jackson. “I need you to calm down. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
Jackson pursed his lips all the harder. He had no intention of calming down.
Flora folded down on the divan and put her cup on the table. “Honestly, Mac. We cannot reason with him when he’s like this.”
“Yeah.” McMillan had a slight chuckle in his tone. “Wonder where he gets that from?”
Flora glared at McMillan. Jackson held back the scream that was clawing at his throat to get out. He folded his arms across his chest and pressed back into the chair. A traitorous tear oozed past his eyelash and rolled down his cheek. “Y’all must think this is quite amusing.” Jackson growled. “I just got one question.”
They both turned to him in surprise and curiosity.
He looked directly into McMillan’s eyes. “Why’d you let me be born a bastard?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
McMillan turned his gaze to Flora. He wasn’t sure how to answer the boy’s question. He hadn’t known Flora had been carrying his child when she suddenly walked out of his life fifteen years ago, but that wasn’t the right answer for what Jackson was asking.
“It wasn’t his fault.” Flora stood up again. “I didn’t tell Mac… you were on the way.”
Jackson paused, considering what she said. “Then” —he vehemently swiped the tear from his cheek— “why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t y’all get married and let us be a family? Why did you let me believe I was… I didn’t have a pa?”
“I thought it was what was best.” Flora licked her lips and dropped her gaze. “I gave you his name.”
Jackson halted completely. “You did not!”
Flora lifted her chin. “I did.”
McMillan looked between Flora and Jackson.
“My name is Jackson Hershell. How’s that giving me McMillan’s name?”
Mac’s eyes widened. “You did?”
Flora nodded, tears pooled in her eyes.
Mac turned to Jackson. “Hershell is my middle name, son.”
Jackson sat in stunned silence.
McMillan pressed his teeth together, there was so much he wanted to say, but none of it was appropriate to talk about in front of Jackson. He needed to get Flora alone. Right now, he needed to address this crucial issue with Jackson and his mistaken trust.
“Look, the past is the past. Mistakes were made. We don’t need to dwell on what could have been.” His glare said more than his words expressed.
Flora visibly tensed.
“But we do need to talk about the choices you made yesterday. Taking up with hoodlums like Goodnight and Rodriguez. You could have gotten yourself into a lot of trouble. Trouble that would have affected you the rest of your life.”
“But I—”
“Son, what is it going to take to make you see that Goodnight lied to you? His story is ridiculous. If Dekum had stolen some piece of property from Goodnight’s boss, he wouldn’t send a kid to fetch it. He’d call the law!”
Jackson opened his mouth to refute McMillan’s statement, but then snapped it shut. “I—you—” He turned sad eyes toward Flora. “Gosh. I didn’t think about that.”
Flora gently touched his shoulder. “We know.”
Jackson’s shoulders rounded as he stared at the floor. Then suddenly his head shot up. “But what about him? Where’d he come from, anyway?”
Flora glanced at Mac. “Well, I—”
“Mac and I worked together a long time ago. He was destined for great things, and I—” She dropped her eyes. “I wanted more from life than to be a subservient wife. I wanted the same thing Mac did, to own my own businesses. And married women cannot achieve those things.”
Mac visibly went taut. “Well, yes you could have.”
She glanced his way, but turned immediately back to Jackson. “Alright, Mac promised me we could build an empire of businesses together, and I wanted to believe him. But I just didn’t. When… when I found out you were in the works, I was terrified that if he found out, he’d force me to marry him and my chance for independence would be destroyed, so I ran away without telling anyone why.”
Mac laughed. “Flora, nobody could force you to do anything you didn’t want to. Not then, and not now.”
Her eyes shot up to meet his. He was right, but he didn’t understand, when she was increasing with Jackson, she felt different. She was scared and very likely to agree to marry him. But deep down she knew it would be a huge mistake. After the child was born, she’d be subject to his demands, and if he demanded she not work, she’d be forced not to work. That, or she’d leave Mac with his child in tow and worry about him tracking her down for the rest of her life. In a split second decision, she got on the train and took it as far west as it would go.
Jackson’s face filled with anger. “See! You could of stayed and we could of been a real family. Why’d you do that to me? I don’t unde
rstand how you could do that!”
“No, of course you don’t.” Flora raised her voice louder than she’d intended. “You’ve never been in such a situation. You’re not a woman, either. You don’t have the first clue what it’s like.”
Mac stepped between the two of them. He took Flora by the shoulders and focused his gaze into her eyes. “Flora. That’s the past and this is the here and now.” He turned to address Jackson. “We may not have been a family from the start of your life, but we could be a family now.”
“What are you saying?” Flora stepped back from him.
“Flora. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I meant what I said to you back then, and I mean it now. I will never hold you to the traditions of society. You are an independent, smart, and amazing woman. That’s what I love about you. Why would I want to change any of that in you?”
She stared at him.
“Flora Jane Adams,” Mac lowered himself to one knee. “I realize we’ve got issues to resolve.” He glanced at Jackson. “We’ve got a son… I’ve retired from a lucrative business just to come here to be your barkeep… because I love you. I’d do anything to be with you— and our son. Will you marry me and continue to be the independent woman I know you as. Please don’t change one thing about you, except your last name. And…and you don’t even have to do that, but please marry me and live with me the rest of our lives.”
Flora’s brows drew together. “I… I just don’t know.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Flora! Just say yes!” Hazel hollered from the kitchen door.
Flora turned to glare at her friend, and turned back to Mac with a smile. She looked over at Jackson with questioning eyes.
“Mom, of course. He’s my pa.”
She turned back to Mac. “Alright, Theodore Hershell McMillan, I will marry you.”
