by Caryl McAdoo
“Wow, I never knew that. Why the name change?”
“Doesn’t say, but I figure he went from having a few sheep that his daughters were tending, to having so many Moses had to take them to the back side of God’s mountain to find good pasture. The Lord had blessed him so much he became Jethro.” He smiled. “God’s been calling me Reuel of late.”
“Really?”
“That’s right. Was a time, all I wanted was to be rich again, go back, and rub my old man’s nose in it. Maybe even buy the house he lost.” He shrugged. “All I want now is to be God’s friend. The gold doesn’t mean a thing anymore, except as a means to be obedient to Him.”
“Like the orphanage?”
“Exactly. It’s you my love, and Francy, and our babies that’s important.”
His words warmed her heart. He wasn’t just saying the right things, he was living them. The orphanage, the miner’s bank, Francy, Amos, and now her unborn baby.
“When Miss Ling’s daughter burst in that day?”
His lips drew tight, but no pain dulled his eyes. A good sign. “What of it?”
“She called you Jet.”
“It’s what Moses used to call me, but I made him stop. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I’ve been thinking on a pet name for you. Any suggestions?”
He grinned. “Husband.”
She returned his mirth then turned serious. “What if…” The words wouldn’t come.
“He’ll say yes. Don’t you fret one bit.”
“No, that isn’t it. Daddy’s going to say yes, if he talks to me at all.”
“Then what’s the if?”
“What if I never love you?”
“Doesn’t matter, the onus is on me to love you. I haven’t found one place scripture tells the wife to love her husband. And I do love you, Mary Rachel, with my whole being. Father God will take care of the rest.”
Saying all the right things, and so good looking…
Why was she still guarding her heart?
Movement caught Jethro’s eye. Francy with her little sis on her hip hurried toward her new mother. With her free hand, she held her nose. He smiled and nodded toward the approaching duo.
“Looks like someone needs changing, and you’re the changer of choice. Sometimes I feel so sorry for mothers. Like now.”
She jumped up and met the little ones halfway, took the baby and disappeared without a look back.
He understood about mothers and their babies, but an I’ll-be-back glance would have been nice. What if she never did love him? He stared into the coffee dregs. The black liquid held no answers.
His parents hadn’t loved each other, only their wealth. That had been evident. Mother had tolerated his infidelity, and he never shed a tear at her funeral.
Before he found out what Meiko’s profession was, his love for her was sure. He smiled, ‘for sure and for certain,’ as Mary would say. Then once he desired to purchase the wares she sold, his longing grew almost worse.
So had it only been lust all along? He told Mary the truth. He definitely loved her.
If only he knew exactly what that meant.
He loved Moses Jones without a doubt, the brother he never had. Maybe even a surrogate father in an odd way. Lord knew his own was no prize.
As much as he wanted, he’d resisted asking Mary about Caleb or Clinton. The first he’d affirm a scoundrel without one reservation, but he’d declare the second evil, taking advantage of the poor girl, trying to buy her off with that bracelet.
His lips spread into a big grin. Never would he forget the look on the man’s face when Mary took his trinket off and gave it his wife.
Poor woman. Someday—if she hadn’t already—she’d discover the truth about her adulterous husband. Would she choose his wealth, too? Stay for the sake of the money? Or at least partly maybe, her children.
His mother’s words still hurt his heart. “I’ve nowhere to go, Jethro. All the money is his.”
Each turn of the steamer’s paddle wheel drew him closer to Henry Buckmeyer. Mary claimed he would give his blessing, but Jethro wasn’t so sure, especially if the man thought he’d fathered the baby.
Would she marry him anyway?
Would he want her to?
These past days, the idea of spending the rest of his days with her—Mary being his wife—had so ingrained itself in his soul. Could he deny her whatever she wanted?
“More coffee, sir?”
The waiter stood next to him holding a carafe. “Please, and…” Mary glided through the door. “A fresh cup for the lady.”
“Yes, sir.” The man poured his, reached over to the next table, grabbed another cup then filled it and vanished. Who wouldn’t love the trappings of money? First class had its advantages.
Mary slipped into her seat. “I promised Francy we’d both read to her later.”
“Not that same book.”
The aroma of the hot brew wafted, and he loved it. “No.” She smiled. “Wants you to read from the Bible, and me from a novel I brought along.”
“One of your step-mother’s?”
“An old one.” She nodded, scanning the room. “I’ve read it at least twice.” Her gaze returned to him. “But it will be fun to introduce Mama May to our little girl.”
He liked that, Mary Rachael calling Francy our girl, letting him share ownership, though in truth, he counted the ten-year-old more his. “Tell me about your family, especially your father.”
She took a sip of coffee then shrugged. “Mama’s first husband Andrew Baylor and his brother Jacob, Levi’s dad, died in the same logging accident, leaving her a widow, pregnant, with a five-year-old nephew to raise.’
“Levi is the Texas Ranger everyone knows about, right?”
“Yes, sir. He’s made quite a reputation for himself. You’ll love him, everyone does. My older sister Rebecca came, like six months later. That was in 1823. She’s married to his sidekick, Wallace Rusk now. The two of them are real close like you and Moses. So, Levi’s really a cousin, but we all count him a brother. His mother had died at birth.”
Though he should maybe take notes, he nodded.
“In ’32, Mama and Levi, who was fourteen then—Rebecca
was nine, made their best cotton crop ever. It’s a long story.”
He laughed. “Am I not old enough to hear it?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Yes, if you really want to. I just didn’t want to bore you. I have a huge, wonderful family. Wait until I get to all the children.” She laughed.
The sound of her light-hearted mirth caressed his ears and reassured him everything would work out. It had to. “Yes, I do want to hear it all.”
Her head swayed back and forth as she boiled it all down. “To say Mama was headstrong…” She grinned. “Safe to call that an understatement.”
“Hold it, why’d she miss the neighbors’ wagon train?”
“There was this man, I forget his name, who’d agreed to buy her cotton, but on the morning she delivered it, he lowered his offer per pound by half. Thought he had her over a barrel, but he didn’t know Mama. She decided to take the cotton the hundred miles to Jefferson herself, but Two-Maw talked her into asking Daddy.”
“Who’s Two-Maw?”
“My mother’s best friend, Elaine, like our second mother. Can’t remember who hung Two-Maw on her, but it fit.”
“Got it, go on.”
“Well, Daddy was a heathen back then and had a bad reputation of being a lay-about drunk.”
“What? Your father was a drunk?”
“No. That rumor got started when he ran into two of his War of 1812 buddies who happened to be hauling a load of whiskey. They brought the news that Andrew Jackson finally got elected President. A toast led to the three of them sleeping under their wagon early the next morning, drunk as skunks. Regrettably, Red River County’s known for its wagging tongues.
“A couple of weeks later, two of the church ladies visited Grandma Buckmeyer—I never knew her—to let her
know what had happened. Guess they thought she could turn him around before it was too late. Who knows? Is there ever an excuse to go tattling?
“Anyway, back then Daddy hunted and trapped and fished mostly—he hated sod busting—so he worked all night. Of course, he walks out of his bedroom rubbing sleep from his eyes in the middle of the afternoon. But trust me, there’s not a lazy bone in the man’s body. The old biddies fanned the gossip flames.”
“So you mother hired your father to go with her?”
She nodded. “He’d seen her the first time like five years before and found out she was a widow. Knew about her vow. From what I’ve heard, everyone in the valley knew about it.”
“What had she vowed?”
“Not to marry again without her father’s blessing. She’d run off and married Rebecca’s father without it.” Her words faded, and she looked a million miles away. He could figure out what she must be thinking and reached over to pat her hand.
Bless her sweet heart. History had obviously repeated itself.
“Anyway.” She turned back and smiled. “Granddaddy lived in Memphis. Daddy said he wanted to come courting before, but figured he’d get her father’s blessing first. Then his mother got sick and died in the spring of that year, 1832.
“He told me he was a bit afraid of what my grandfather would say, him being a Memphis judge and all.” She chuckled. “The only time I ever heard him admit to being scared of anything.”
He loved listening to her. “So she’s thinking he’s a no-good. How come she hires him anyway?”
“Two-Maw convinced her he’d at least be another gun. He’d been with Jackson in the Battle of New Orleans. So Mama figured with no whiskey around, he’d have to stay sober and he might be some protection.”
“So sparks flew?”
“Not at first from the stories. She’d been making it with two little ones on her own for ten years, and didn’t cotton to Daddy always telling her what to do and how to do it. She admitted to staying mad most of the trip.” Mary laughed.
“Thing was, Daddy knew the best way to do things. For instance, he wanted to go the long, safer way across the Sulphur on the ferry, but she insisted on the shorter way through the Cuthand bottoms.”
“Cuthand? That a river?”
“No, a settlement. A young Indian boy guiding some early explorers had some fingers sliced off by a French soldier. Grew up to be the chief, but he carried the name Cuthand the rest his life, I guess. So anyway, they had to cross the Sulphur River and two branches of White Oak Creek.
“Daddy’s driving the lead wagon and told her to wait, and he’d come back and drive her team over. The short story is he made it, she got stuck and spent a day and a half in the middle of the creek.” She laughed again.
Loving that she seemed so light and free when she’d been so stressed…since he knew her, he enjoyed hearing her family history. She appeared to love the telling as much as he loved the listening.
“What did Henry do?”
“Tried everything he could, then got Mama and Rebecca to build a signal fire to call in some help.”
“Were they that close to civilization?”
“No, he was calling Indians.”
“Really? Why would he do that?”
“The Caddo weren’t like the Comanche or Apache or the other more savage tribes; these were peaceful family men, pretty much like regular people. I like them a lot.”
“So they came to help?”
She grinned real big. “But they wanted a mule and Levi’s long gun, and Mama couldn’t stand parting with any of her animals or asking Levi to give up his gun—it was inherited, belonged to his dead father—so Daddy loans her his mule and gun. Didn’t mention then that General Jackson had given the musket to him, but he’d have done about anything to please her.”
Jethro knew what that was like. The more time he spent with Mary, the more he wanted her, and to never let her go.
“Is that when she fell in love with him?”
“No, she said he kept making her mad, bossing her around, even though she later admitted her way would have been disastrous.”
Was that it?
“She told me when they reached the Titus Trading Post, it was like the worst and best day of her life. That’s when her wall started crumbling, and she admitted to herself she loved him the next day at Captain Dangerfield’s Spring.” Mary chuckled. “If I could have just been there. Levi... Wait, let me back up.”
“Please do, I’m lost. Why was it the worst day?”
“Andrew Titus, the trading post’s proprietor, told Mama the big gun buyers were leaving Jefferson in three days, something to do with the price of lint. Anyway, she’s out in the wagon, crying, about ready to turn back, but decides she’s come that far, she must go on. But Daddy and Levi and Rebecca were all lollygagging inside...Mama getting madder by the minute.
“Finally, here came Rebecca with an armload of stuff Daddy had brought her. Only made Mama madder, like what little bit of anything she could afford once she sold her cotton wouldn’t mean anything now.” Mary took time to breathe, wagging her head and obviously relishing her story.
“Rebecca tells Mama that Daddy has got her something, too. But by then Sister and Daddy were in cahoots. She’d gotten him to buy a gold ring. She loved him like a daddy already—like Francy loves you. Since her daddy died before she was born, she’d never had one. So anyway, Mama was stewing, and Levi starts unhitching her mules.”
He leaned back. “Oh no, I can see how that’d go over.”
“Well, that’s about right. She had four total, two for each wagons, and they’re pulling like two tons each. She started thinking Daddy had gone and traded her cotton for all the stuff he’s bought. She was just about to give him a piece of her mind—or maybe she already did—but here comes fourteen-year-old Levi with a new team of four mules.”
“Where did he get them?”
“Daddy bought them to try and get her to Jefferson before the buyers left. He’d carried coin and jewels in his honey jars. That’s another long story.”
The ship’s bell clanged the hour. He pulled out his pocket watch. “Did you tell our daughter what time we’ll be reading?”
She smiled. “You like calling her that, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do. Almost as much as I’m going to love calling you my wife.”
“I’ve been doing all the talking, how about another question?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I’ve been wondering…”
“What, Mary, you can ask me anything, any time.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Why is it that you haven’t asked me about Edward?”
Why indeed. Was she crazy as a Bessie bug? Why had Mary brought the man up? She hated it that she had, but still, Jethro must be wondering. It’d drive her crazy if she were him.
Pursing his lips, he raised both eyebrows slightly then shrugged. “I’ve wanted to a dozen times, but I was there when you gave back the bracelet.”
She regretted it even before giving it voice, but the question needed asking. “Aren’t you concerned that I’m still in love with him?”
“I’ve thought about it, but the Bible says Eve was deceived, just as you were. Twice now. I know my heart, and I love you. I will until the day I die.”
There he went again, saying the right thing.
Instead of badgering her with questions about Edward, asking her how she could have been so stupid to let him seduce her. But no—right away, he goes to figuring out an excuse for her bad choices and actions.
Deceived.
She pondered on it. It was the truth. She had been. Both times, like he said.
Then straight to talking about how much he loved her. “Why do you?”
He grinned. “Love you?”
She nodded rapidly.
“I’ve examined my own heart. Once I thought I’d found true love with Meiko, but compared to what I feel for you, that was only lust.”
>
A waiter drew near. Jethro held his coffee cup up then nodded toward hers.
“No, thank you, I’m fine.”
He took a sip of the hot brew then smiled. “I admit your beauty drew me to you—like so many others—but peerage. That’s the best way to explain it.”
“How so?”
“Not since my mother have I known a lady who I considered an equal.”
Equal? Had he called her his equal? “How’s that? Tell me more, kind sir.”
“You, sweet lady, are my equal in so many ways. You issue orders, and folks love to carry them out. You drive a hard bargain, but you’re fair.” He grinned. “Your intelligence. You are not just full of book knowledge, you balance that with solid common sense. Have I mentioned your beauty?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, looks fade, but not your inner beauty. Your heart is so precious toward others—like you forgiving Lanelle so easily. You are such an incredible lady, Mary Rachael. You giving Mis’ess Clinton the bracelet shocked me true, but telling her—and more so him—that you were tired of it. And then not telling her where you got it. Such class.”
Studying her hands in her lap, she replayed the scene in her memory. She had no idea it had impressed Jethro so much. “Thank you.”
“I don’t know of any other who would have handled that evening with such grace or dignity.”
Was he just flattering her? A master manipulator? Then…what if he was? She liked it whatever anyone wanted to call it. “Thank you, again.” She looked up. “Do you know why I agreed to go with you?”
He shook his head.
“I couldn’t think of another way to see him. I wanted to tell him about the baby, but his wife and children changed my mind. I’d convinced myself his father had arranged for him to marry some socialite. Wasn’t that a joke on me? I expected him to send the young lady packing and make me an honest woman.”
Why had she told him that? What was he doing to her?
He stared, but his face remained blank, unreadable. And he didn’t say anything. Had she broken his heart? Could he still love her now? Peerage, he said. She didn’t think so. When he’d found out what Meiko really was, he didn’t want her anymore.
