Gone to Texas: Cross Timbers Romance Family Saga, book one (Thanksgiving Books & Blessings Collection One 1)

by Caryl McAdoo

  “Well, guess we better tell our news. Reagan, you want the honors?”

  Her love's father laughed. “I wouldn't call bearing bad news an honor.”

  Oh no! They had been duped.

  “What's Mister Jenkins going to do? It's our cotton! And what about the cabins? And shed and all the fencing we've done?” She'd never heard that tone from her Uncle Laud before, always so easy going. He sounded like he wanted to go to war or something.

  “It isn't all bad. He says we can stay until harvest.”

  “And beyond if we want to sharecrop.” Aunt Libby almost always helped her husband with his stories—nothing unusual for her to speak up.

  “But if we leave, whatever we don't take is his.”

  “Is he laying claim to any of our cotton?”

  “He wants a tenth, and half the seed.”

  “What? You didn't agree to that, did you?”

  “Not yet. We've not agreed to anything. He sent a quit claim with us that he wants us to sign if we decide to leave.”

  “Anyone seen his dirty rat cousin?”

  Her ma hung her head. “Yes, Laud. They hung him three weeks ago. He was selling more land that wasn't his and about anything else he figured someone wanted, I suppose.”

  Poor man. Alicia remembered his face, all smiling and talking big, then pictured him hanging by the neck. She shook the image from her mind's eye.

  Can't abide a thief.

  Still hurt her heart though to even know that someone she’d known, and thought was a good man, got strung up. How sad he'd done such an awful thing to her parents and the O'Neals and Worleys.

  The wind stiffened out of the west, and a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. Her father grabbed his chair. “What say we take this conversation to our cabin. Looks like we're in for a storm.”

  Everyone went to helping get everything inside, then she beat the rain to her cabin by two good gulps of sweet, cool air. She loved summer rain almost as much as she hated its aftermath.

  Chores in the mud seemed twice as hard, and she hated the extra extra-dirty laundry, too. Plus, once the sun shone again and crusted the ground over, new grass and weeds always sprouted.

  Then rows and rows of cotton to chop filled everyone's days except Aunt Esther’s and Katie Kay’s. Poor woman couldn't stand up to it, being so close to delivery and all.

  Chopping cotton was the worst. She hated it more than anything in the world, though it had its bright spot. At least the clan all worked on the same section together, so Flynn was never too far away.

  A little private smile fell on her lips—just as Flynn's lips had—when she thought about how he jockeyed around to be in the next row from hers. Why hadn't she been noticing that? Might have saved her some powerful worrying.

  Her mother grabbed her arm and ended pondering the answer to her question. She pulled her to the end of porch. “Did you kiss Flynn?”

  The better story she'd thought about telling died on her tongue, but not before an “Uh . . .” escaped. She nodded. “Yes, ma'am, or . . . maybe not exactly?”

  “What are you talking about? You either kissed him or you didn't.”

  “Truth is I'm not sure. I don't think I did. I mean . . . he kissed me . . . if anyone would really call it a kiss. It was somewhat on accident, but our lips did brush, and I have to say, I was powerful pleased it happened.”

  “Alicia!” She huffed. “My goodness! I just praise sweet Jesus that your little brother was watching out for you!”

  “Oh, Mother!”

  The others walked a wide berth around that end of the porch. So, they all knew already. The adults' trailing voices spoke of the day's events, and all the little brats stared at her, craning their necks to watch after they'd already passed by.

  Scowling, Ma nodded toward the door. “You get all the young ones up in the loft and keep them quiet. We need to get things settled. Liberty and I will deal with you tomorrow.”

  Why should Aunt Liberty be involved with dealing with her? Alicia liked her well enough, but she'd be much harder to bring around than her mother. It wasn't fair she had to listen to both of them scold her. “Yes, ma'am.”

  From her pallet in the loft, Alicia rested her chin on the heels of her hands, peering down. She tried to follow the argument, but mostly, everyone kept saying the same things. Plus, every few words, Flynn glanced up, making eyes. If all the adults weren't sitting around the kitchen table, she'd chunk something at him.

  But then he didn't have to face the music come tomorrow. What was fair about that? Especially considering she hadn't been responsible for the actual kissing.

  Her Pa slapped the table. “I refuse to farm on shares.”

  Uncle Reagan laughed. “I'm with you, Seve. I thought we'd found us a home. But squatting on another man's land sticks in my craw.”

  Maybe she should stop thinking of him as her uncle. He wasn't true kin, at least not yet; but if the man might be her father-in-law one day, calling him uncle sure wouldn't work.

  Still, it'd be just as good as Mister O'Neal all the time, probably even better after all considerations.

  Would he and Aunt Liberty forbid Flynn from marrying her?

  Oh Lord, have mercy on me. Don't let that be.

  Aunt Liberty glanced over at Flynn then up at her. Had she seen him making eyes? She turned her attention back to the table.

  “I've been hearing about all the land in Texas. Pennies on the dollar compared to here. Some even free for the settling. I love the idea of having our own land.” She took her husband's hand.

  “And I've truly loved living here—all of us being together. We ought to consider it at least.”

  Texas! Alicia tried to read Flynn's reaction, but his face betrayed nary an opinion.

  “I'm not entirely opposed to that, dear.” Uncle Reagan shook his head. “But it's a long way, Lib. Winter would be on us before we could get settled.”

  The six adults talked the pros and cons of Texas for a while. She'd heard about the Republic but hadn't ever thought of leaving the United States. Fact was though, she didn't care really what they decided so long as the O'Neals didn't go somewhere different than her parents!

  Uncle Laud stood. “What about the Indians? And I've heard Santa Anna's been threatening to invade. I don't know a lick of Spanish.”

  “Laud!” Aunt Liberty glared at her brother. “The Texicans beat him once already, and if he should rear his head, they'll no doubt do it again. For a few hundred dollars, we could get a thousand acres!

  “If you men hadn't of been all hot and bothered to break ground and get some seed into our new land here—back when we made the deal with that scoundrel—and had gone to Charlotte like I wanted, we’d not be in this mess.”

  Uncle Laud glared at his sister. “I have a family to think of, Sister!”

  “Well, don't you think—”

  “Lib. That's enough. No one can change the past.” Uncle Reagan spoke softly but firmly, and his tone carried enough steel to silence his wife. Her cheeks showed a good bit of red, even in the lamplight, but she hushed and stared at the table.

  “So what do you think? Should we sleep on it or vote to go to Texas?”

  Aunt Esther, who hadn't said much all night, looked right at Reagan. “Are the cotton prices holding steady?”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Do you think Mister Jenkins would send his own pickers for his six acres?”

  “Might. What are you getting at?”

  “Well, I like us living together, too.” Aunt Libby glanced up and smiled at her sister-in-law, looking appreciative of the affirmation. “And if we could get a thousand acres between us, and prices hold, and we don't have to pick Mister Jenkins’ part, I've been doing the math.

  “I think if we're ready to go as soon as we sell the crop, we could be there before Thanksgiving.”

  “You sure, honey?” Uncle Laud moved and stood behind her. “It'd be a hard journey.”

  Nodding at the table, she reached
to her shoulder and covered her husband's hand. “Yes, sir. I am. If I'm remembering right, Texas is about five hundred miles, and if we averaged eighteen miles a day—Reagan and them did twenty today—and . . .” She laughed.

  “Truth be told, I don't want to go back north. I hate the cold and ice. The heat isn't so bad. And the baby will be here by then.”

  Uncertain she agreed with the heat not being so bad, Alicia thought of scorching temperatures, but she'd go to the Arabian desert if that's what it took to be with Flynn.

  For the next few minutes, they all talked about Texas, but nothing got settled. Her mother finally stood and looked right at her. “Anyone but you awake up there?”

  “No, ma'am. I don't think so,” she half-whispered. “Charity and Arlene stopped whispering a good bit ago. Katie Kay and the boys gave it up pretty much as soon as their heads hit the pillows.”

  “Leave 'em all be then.” She turned to her best friend. “If that's all right with you, Libby.”

  “Oh, sure. It's fine. No reason to get them up. Besides, it's still sprinkling out there.”

  Right before Flynn got to the door, he glanced her way and grinned.

  What was that supposed to mean?

  Once her father snuffed the lantern, she shed everything, but her petticoat then scooted under the sheet. At first, she strained hard, but couldn't hear what they were saying if anything. She laid her head back onto the goose-feather pillow and shut her eyes.

  Would she be able to sleep? Her mind wandered a mile a minute from Flynn to chores in the mud to her looming talk with Ma and Aunt Libby then back to her beau.

  At least the rain had cooled things considerable. Thank the Lord. A nice breeze would be better than cream on cobbler.

  Would everyone really go to Texas together?

  Would they let Flynn and her marry then or maybe here in Tennessee? He'd have to get a whole separate wagon to take her to Texas if . . . Oh! What if they said no? Tried to tell him and her to wait.

  Would they dare?

  What if he met someone else on the way? Or a Texican's beautiful daughter? She didn't like that train of thought.

  If he did marry her, would he want to start a family right away?

  Did she want a boy or girl first?

  Rolling over onto her side, she thought on her baby, then it seemed like she'd just lain down, but the stupid rooster took to crowing the sun up.

  Most times she loved being the oldest, but not of a morning. No doubt she'd be the one to sludge through the mud to carry Katie Kay to her mama, while her own mother started breakfast.

  She laughed. Richard Worley would be plenty happy to move in with her bratty brother and be a Van Zandt, live there forever. Humph. Like she needed two scalawags under the same roof full-time.

  Little brothers could be such . . . such . . . bothers!

  The morning went about like she figured, but the mud wasn't as bad. Seemed the ground had been plenty thirsty and swallowed the three—quarters of an inch as quickly as Aaron gulped a full glass of sweet milk.

  Praise God, everyone seemed busy and Aunt Libby never showed.

  Then the reckoning raised its ugly head half an hour after dinner.

  The girls were with Aunt Esther, and Flynn had taken the boys to run the snares. It was as if the whole clan had conspired against her.

  And to make it worse, her mother and aunt brought her inside the cabin and blocked the door almost shut, enough for a little light, but not enough to catch any breeze at all. Mercy, she'd been sweating bullets already.

  A body was liable to pass plum out in that muggy heat.

  Her mother took her own seat, while her future mother-in-law—she could only pray—sat at the table's head. Alicia slipped into her regular place and took to studying her raggedy fingernails.

  Did fancy ladies really have long filed ones that they painted?

  “Well. young lady.” Flynn's mother sighed a long breath. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  What? She looked to her aunt. Why had she been first to speak? “I . . . uh . . . and he . . . I think . . . Oh, Auntie! The bottom line is that we love each other.”

  Her eyes widened. “Has he said that? That he loved you?”

  “Well, no, not in so many words, I guess. But he kissed me. I think. If only I could remember for sure, but I think I kissed him back. That . . . uh . . .” She swallowed the name she was about to call her little brother and smiled instead.

  “If Aaron hadn't have been snooping around, perhaps we would have had time to share our hearts with each other.”

  “Or worse!”

  Her gaze shifted to Ma. Worse? It was wonderful. Wait! What was she saying? Had she just implied that she might have done something entirely inappropriate with Flynn? Without the benefit of marriage?

  “Oh, Mother! We'd never! I'd never! How could you even think such a thing?”

  Her aunt grabbed her hand. “Don't say that, Lesha. You don't know. One thing can lead to another! There have been plenty of girls who've gotten themselves in the family way, who'd swear something like that would never happen to them. Young girls just don't know.”

  “Well, from what I understand.” She pulled her hand back. “Young girls couldn't do anything of the sort without a young man involved! I don't know why you both are so upset! We didn't really do anything! It was almost an accident. Have you talked with Flynn?”

  “His father has.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I don't know yet, but that's not the point. Men . . .” She rolled her eyes then flipped her hand like that gesture said it all. “The main point is, we don't ever want you and Flynn put in a position to be alone together again.”

  “What? That's not fair! We’ve things to work out, and . . .”

  “Right this minute, you have nothing to work out, young lady.”

  “But Ma!”

  “Don't you ‘but Ma’ me! With nothing settled about what we're doing, where we're going . . . Honey, he just turned nineteen. He hasn't got any way of supporting a wife, much less a family.”

  “He's almost as good a fiddler as Uncle, and he's learning smithing. We're both hard workers! Everyone says so.” Tears welled.

  “Sweetheart.” Her mother came around and hugged her. “Give it some time. We aren't saying you can't be together. We just want someone there with you.”

  It wasn't fair. Nothing about it! What could she say, though? They were the bosses. She might as well be a slave! “Fine! Does Katie Kay count?”

  “No.” Her mother grinned. “Of course not. And neither does Richard or Aaron. It'll be Arlene and Charity together or an adult.”

  She wiped her cheeks, filled her lungs, then nodded. “I'm sorry you two don't trust us.” She found a weak smile. “But I do still love you both.”

  Chapter Four

  Just as every other time—the way of God's plan for the world, Alicia guessed—the ground crusted over then new grass and weeds raised their ugly heads, and everyone except Katie Kay and her mama took to hoeing between the cotton plants.

  What she hated most was not being able to see the end. The sixty acres of rows went on and on and on forever.

  Before long though, she found her rhythm, preferring the reach-and-pull method. It seemed that took less effort than the quick—chop the men used.

  As had become his habit, Flynn worked the next row over, but his father made him go in the opposite direction, so she only got a smile and a long look from his sweet eyes once a row when they met.

  Two ships passing on the dirt seas.

  Two hard days and half the third got it done. Her back ached and her fingers had blisters even though she wore gloves. And she'd not had any time with Flynn to know what Uncle Reagan had told him.

  Not that she wanted anyone listening to what he said to her or vice-versa. Maybe the chaperons could be in seeing distance, but not hearing.

  That'd be a little better. She'd have to ask Ma about it.

  Writing a lette
r might be an option. She started one but hadn't got past the 'Dear Flynn' part—and that only in her mind. Ink and paper was hers for the asking, not to wad up and throw into the fire though.

  For the hundredth time, she chided herself for not kissing him back when she had the chance. Why hadn't she?

  Or had she?

  No.

  Surely, she would remember it if she had. He probably thought she was a horrible kisser. She closed her eyes and relived the event from hearing him call her. Over here. She could still hear him say it.

  Mercy she needed some time alone with him, but what price would she pay if her jailers caught her? Could it be any worse?

  August burned itself half-up.

  The next day was when Pa said he'd give Mister Jenkins an answer. That evening after a meal of spit-roasted rabbit and boiled corn and okra, the subject everyone had been mulling over for the last two weeks came back around.

  Her father tossed a bone into the fire. “We told Jenkins we'd give him our answer tomorrow. We've had plenty of time to think on it, so what's your pleasure?”

  Sharecropping came up first and got shot down just as fast. Everyone agreed on that. Next topic also was unanimous. First one then another voiced their desire to stay together.

  Praise God! Oh, thank You, Lord!

  “Is it Texas then?” Uncle Reagan looked around the circle.

  For a long time, no one said a word, pro or con. So, he threw Flynn a nod. “Tell them what you told me the other day, Son.”

  “Sure.” He nodded as though it had all been arranged beforehand for him to talk. “I think me and Alicia should get a say. It’s our lives, too, getting decided here.”

  Her cheeks warmed. He'd included her, just like he considered being a couple. He did love her! Didn't that mean he loved her? Maybe he just meant because he and she were both grown, and nothing else by it.

  “So what's your mind?”

  “I vote Texas. Hadn't talked to Alicia, so don't know what she thinks about it, but it sounds to me that's the best choice we've got.” He looked at each of those sitting around the cook-fire, then his eyes settled on her.

  Her cheeks grew warmer. He smiled then nodded. “What do you say, Alicia?”