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

by Caryl McAdoo

  Katie Kay would be four next year and want to help.

  Mercy. Once upon a time she'd wanted her very own little cotton sack, and Ma had made her one. Like it was yesterday, she remembered hardly being able to wait to go to work with the adults. That didn't last long though.

  “Pa, that's not fair.”

  Arlene's whiny voice stuck out above the rest and brought her back to the moment.

  “Girl, mind me. You and Charity are not working together. You'll pick in front of your ma and Charity Grace will go ahead of hers. We need to get this done as quick as possible.”

  Sure enough at the end of the day, her back ached, her fingertips were bloody, and she'd stumped her toes about a hundred times, but she did it. Picked hers and her sister's weight plus half again her brother's.

  At half a cent a pound, she had a buck twenty in the band. Rented slaves got two cents—well, their owners, rather—but at least Pa didn't control all the money made.

  Wouldn't that be awful? Having a father who drank or gambled away any ready cash? Her mother had warned her of such men, but she'd never have to waste any concern with that—not married to Flynn.

  While the last of that day's lint got packed down into the wagon and tarped, her father sidled up next to her. “Want you to know, told Flynn you and him could sit his porch this evening after supper.”

  Her lips spread wide. “Thank you, Pa.”

  In spite of her aching back and feet and fingers, she almost floated to the cook-fire. It surprised her how hollow her tummy was. Unlike most evenings, she took seconds when offered and ate all of her biscuit.

  Then while those who wanted thirds—and Flynn was one—her father broached a brand-new subject.

  “Who wants the first trip?”

  No one spoke up. Alicia looked at him. “What are you talking about? Trip to where?”

  “Charlotte. Someone needs to take the lint to the gin.”

  “Oh.” Why hadn't someone said something?

  Uncle Laud threw a nod. “I'll go.” He looked to his sister. “Want to go with me, Liberty? Esther doesn't need to be spending twelve hours in a bumpy wagon.”

  “Well, that's certainly understandable, but how's that going to work when it's Reagan's time to go? Who'll go with him?”

  “I can take Charity and Arlene.”

  “Yes, oh yes!” Alicia's little sister jumped to her feet. “Can we go tomorrow? How long can we stay? We both have money coming now. Can we go shopping? When will we get paid?”

  “Easy, Arlee girl.” Pa reined her in. “Laud and Liberty are going tomorrow. And no. The gin is a quarter mile out of town, so you two young ladies can't go anywhere. We'll have to stay in line.”

  “Oh, Pa. Pray tell when are we ever going to get a chance to spend our money?”

  He shook his head and laughed but didn't respond.

  “Reagan and the girls take the next load. Flynn, you want to take your Aunt Mallory and the boys next?”

  “I can do that, sir.”

  “Good.” Her father looked right at her. “Figured you and I could take the fourth load. Then we'll decide after that how many more trips we need to make.”

  “I want to thank you all for adjusting things to accommodate me for my condition. I truly appreciate you all. Feel like I'm shirking all the time.”

  “No.” Mallory rose, bent over, and gave Esther a hug. “Don't you dare feel that way. I've had three young’uns myself. Lib's had two. We ladies all know what you're going through—and the men to a certain extent on account of they had to live with us all the way through.”

  Not all the ladies present knew. A pang of regret and desire coursed through Alicia. She hadn't been there, but certainly longed for the experience.

  Was Flynn ever going to quit eating?

  Pa laughed. “That's the truth. We can sure sympathize, Laud.”

  “No need, Esther's a jewel.”

  Her sweetheart finally finished his thirds, washed it all down with a good long gulp of creek water, then nodded toward his cabin. He stood and headed that direction. She fell in behind, careful to stay back far enough that if he stumbled and fell, he wouldn't accidentally touch her.

  But could she really let him fall if it came to that?

  Auntie's rocker never felt so good to her sitter—about the only part of her that wasn't sore.

  “Shame it wasn't even an option for us to go together.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” He laughed. “I spoke too soon, said yes before I reasoned it all out. All day with those two scalawags . . . at least your mother will be there. She'll keep a thumb on them, but seems to me without your father around, Aaron's twice as hard to handle.”

  “So you've noticed.”

  He snickered. She loved how quick he laughed at things she said. She'd never really thought of herself as having a great sense of humor or being very funny.

  “I've been thinking some, Flynn. Are you planning on farming in Texas?”

  “Why not? Thought we'd give it a try.”

  “Cotton?”

  Mirth twinkled in his eyes. “Have you done the math and figured out how much money we're going to get for that one wagon load?”

  “Not really. Has someone tallied it all up?”

  “Sure. I did. We've got twenty-six hundred and seventy pounds of lint to carry in. Even at only eleven cents a pound, that's a hundred and seventeen dollars and forty-eight cents! And we've just got started.”

  “Don't make me hate you, Reagan Flynn.”

  “Why would you hate me?”

  “Well . . . I don't know that I ever actually could, but I'm telling you true, I hate planting cotton, chopping cotton, picking cotton.” She shrugged.

  “I mean, if it was you and me getting a turn going up to the gin . . . I might like hauling cotton, but a whole day with Pa? Right this minute, I hate hauling cotton, too.”

  The twinkle doubled.

  “Not to mention.” She wrinkled her nose. “Getting up so very early. But you'll let me sleep in once we get to Texas, right?”

  He smiled extra big. “I love you.”

  “I can't tell you how happy I am for that, and I certainly love you, too. But what about, say, timber, or . . .?” She shrugged. “I don't know. Do other options make the same profits? How much you think we're going make? All told?”

  “Well, prices may not hold, but we are getting in early. And it's been known to even go up some this time of a year.”

  “How come?”

  “Supply and demand. Buyers have orders to fill, and if the lint isn't coming in, then they get to outbidding each other.”

  “Wow. How high could it go?”

  “No telling.” He shrugged. “Guess I could try my hand at smithing, but if we can get the land for so little, seems to me, farming is the way to go. Shoeing a mule now and again for bringing in some extra is fine, but even a middling crop would give us enough cash for a whole year.”

  “I truly want a bath house, so I can soak my aching back every night if we have to work lint.” She held a finger up. “But I want to sleep late every day when we're not. And, I truly hope you'll look into other cash crops. People need bread. What about wheat? Or Oats?”

  A semi-laugh exploded out his nose, but he obviously stifled himself, appeared about to bust a gut.

  “What do you think is so funny? I'm serious. I hate getting up early.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  If ever she wanted to kiss him, it was right that minute.

  But nothing of the sort would do. He'd agreed though, and she'd remember and hold him to his word once they got to Texas. How lovely to know she'd get to sleep late! Too soon—she'd not asked him half her questions—the time alone with him came to its end.

  What a shame she couldn't even shake his hand, much less kiss him goodnight.

  Chapter Seven

  Midmorning of the second day of picking, a rhythm came upon Flynn. His back still hurt, but it seemed his muscles had resigned themselves to working and stoppe
d their constant barking.

  Even with Laud and Mam gone to Charlotte, the weight that day went up by a hundred and seventy pounds. Praise the Lord! By his reckoning, close to five acres picked clean.

  Another fifty-some-odd to go. Daunting, indeed, but doable.

  That night while he waited for sleep to find him, a thought struck him. Had him making his trip to Charlotte with his intended's mother been prearranged?

  Aunt Mallory had been around for years, and he certainly liked his future mother-in-law well enough, but she tended to hold back in a crowd.

  Had she wanted to get him alone to test him out?

  Even though older than his own mother by several months, she always deferred to Mam. But then when Liberty O'Neal set her mind to a thing, everyone best step aside.

  Well, maybe not his uncle. Seve Van Zandt had a way of making folks want to do what he suggested, and Alicia had a lot of her father in her.

  That night, as he drifted off, that statement turned into a question. Was that a good thing?

  While the others took to picking that third day, Flynn and company headed to town. His little partners lasted half a mile before the wagon's sway and having to sit back put them to sleep. A boy on each side of Aunt Mallory, one day to be his Ma—he hoped.

  “If you'll take the reins a minute.” He glanced over. “I'll put them back on the lint. Make it be a bit more comfortable on you.”

  “Why, thank you for being so thoughtful.” She held her hands out. “Both of them are getting so big.”

  Once he had the boys settled, he took the reins back. She didn't say much for a while then snickered. “Your papa ever tell how your mam and I met our husbands?”

  “No, ma'am. Don't rightly guess I heard that story.”

  “No wonder. For a bit, it was actually the opposite way around. I was sweet on Reagan, and Seve was courting Lib.”

  “Really? How'd it turn out the right way?”

  “Lib and Seve got into it one night, and she . . . uh . . .” Mallory laughed. “Don't you tell her or your Uncle Seve I told you this! Your mam slapped his face and ran out of our parlor. When Reagan ran after her, I was so happy.”

  “That was in your parents’ house?”

  “No. Your mother and I were sharing a room in a boardinghouse. We worked together, plucking chickens.”

  Flynn laughed. “You and Mam pulling feathers all day?”

  “Without a doubt, the worst job I ever had. But it kept a roof over our heads.”

  For several turns of the wagon's wheels, he digested the twenty-year-old news. So interesting as he couldn't imagine it the other way around. “Why were you living in a boarding house?”

  “That's exactly why I told you this story, Flynn.” She patted his knee. “Hopefully, you'll keep it to yourself, but we'd gotten crossways with our parents. Liberty and I wanted to be independent and able to see whoever we wanted, go where we wanted, and they . . .”

  She shook her head. “We were just Alicia's age when we moved out.”

  “Really? Was it my mother's idea?”

  “Mostly, but I was every bit as sick of my father wanting things done like they did in the old country. I was born here, and well . . .” She patted his knee again.

  “Anyway, looking back at how close we came to getting in horrible trouble, I cringe at the thought of Alicia being on her own, and I’d purely hate it if you two ran off and eloped.”

  “That's not going to happen.”

  “Good. I told Seve you had a level head, and Liberty and I, well we've been hoping for a long while you and Alicia would fall in love, but . . .” She turned sideways in the seat. “You have to understand; my husband doesn't always know what's best.”

  So . . . Alicia's father was against him. And not only because of his age or not being established.

  “Hey, can I drive now?”

  Flynn looked over his shoulder. Aaron grinned. “Sure, come on up.”

  After each scalawag had his turn at driving, the boys and he took a little walk into the woods to take care of business, leaving the lady alone as well. His partners ran to catch up with the wagon and rode a wheel up to the bench seat.

  Aunt Mallory kept the mules steady while he hopped aboard again and took the reins.

  Soon enough, the gin came in view. His heart sank when he counted the number of wagons already in line. Six! Uncle Laud had only been behind three, so he’d have twice the wait.

  After moving just two slots worth in forty-five minutes, he offered a respite from his tormentors. “We're looking at a couple of hours or better.” He faced his honorary aunt then nodded toward town. “Want to go? Or would you rather stay?”

  “Well.” She looked at Aaron then Richard. “They do have some cash.” She tussled her son's hair. “Would you young men want to walk up the street with me?”

  That answered his question, and he watched her disappear around a bend with the two little fellers walking backwards in front of her, no doubt nearly bending her ear off.

  He worked his way to the head of the line, then got powerfully pleased to get eleven-point-two cents per pound. It worked out to be a hundred forty-nine dollars and seventy-four cents.

  Of course, Jenkins got his cut of the cash and seed, but still Flynn had more money in his pocket than he’d ever seen.

  The boys and Auntie showed before the mules had sated their thirst, and it pleased him even more to tell her the good news.

  “And the best part, this load had less seed and more lint, so . . .” He nodded toward the fourteen sacks of seed in the back of the wagon. “We’ve got more cash now.”

  “Seve says we can sell whatever seed we don't want in Memphis.”

  “That's good to know. He say he had any idea of how much we should keep?”

  “If Texas dirt's anything like Tennessee's, we'll most likely need ten pounds per acre, but we've also got to have room for all the stuff we intend to carry.”

  Sounded to Flynn like maybe he should take some of his cash and buy his own wagon. “Think Uncle will let Alicia and me have a few minutes on our porch this evening?”

  “I doubt it so soon. Why?”

  “I'd like to see what she thinks about us buying our own wagon. She's against me planting cotton if there's any other crop we can make a go of it with. We'd have to buy seed.”

  “Maybe you could trade your part of the seed for corn or wheat. Anyway, I suppose I could put a gnat in my husband's ear. But you know how pigheaded he can get.”

  “If he says no, would you ask her for me?”

  “My pleasure.”

  What a boon for Alicia's beau to report good news! Big enough for that grin of his to go past both sides of his face, he announced it from the wagon seat.

  The two—tenths of a cent extra for a pound of lint along with the extra weight meant more cash in the kitty. The less seed, she wasn't sure about. She caught her father's eye. “Is it a good thing that this load had less seed?”

  “Yes, ma'am. We'll mark those sacks as keepers.” He smiled. “You outdid yourself today, girl. I'd say you're a cotton picking natural.”

  “Oh, Pa, please.” Though she really didn't want to smile or celebrate with him in any way, she did, making pretty certain it had no sparkle. What did she have to be happy about since he'd refused her request for more time with Flynn?

  'Don't be trying to make it an every evening affair' indeed! His words stuck in her craw.

  At least she had the pleasure of looking at her handsome beau during supper.

  Aaron tugged on her sleeve. “Want a piece of my licorice?” He held out a rather small nibble.

  “Why, thank you, Brother.” She took the offering and slipped it into her dress's pocket.

  “Ain't you going to eat it?”

  “Sure I am, but figured I'd save it for later.”

  “Oh.” His shoulders slumped. “Thought you'd like to eat it now. That was my last piece.”

  “You want it back?”

  “No, I give Ar
lee and Charity Grace pieces, so that's yours fair and square.” He leaned in close. “I'm hoping they'll bring me some tomorrow when they get to go to town, and then . . .”

  He perked up and both brows raised opening his twinkling eyes all the wider. “I figure iffin you was to do the same, well . . .” He tilted his head slightly. “I'd love you forever.”

  She hiked her own brows and wrinkled her nose. “You've already made that promise about a thousand times.”

  “Yeah, but I already spent all my ready cash.” He slumped back. “Pa said I only got a dime for my trip and the rest had to go on account. Whatever that means.”

  “You ate a whole dime's worth of candy today? Mercy, Aaron!”

  “Oh no.” He pulled a small knife from his pocket. “Me and Rich went in on it together. He pulled it open. “I carry it one day, and it's his the next, but we also got borrowing rights.”

  “Oh. So how much did you spend on candy?”

  “A nickel, then I found the blade. Ain't he something?” The boy stroked the blade then pressed its edge against his thumb. “Sharp, too.”

  “Yes, sir. I see that. You'll have to be mighty careful. Did Ma know you got it?” The thing looked old and in need of a good sharpening, but apparently, was her brother's new prized possession.

  “Naw. She was over looking at the canvas material and stuff when we bought it, then he went straight into my pocket.”

  “Have you showed it to Pa?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, I think you better. Just to be sure, you know.”

  “Sure of what?” His brows furrowed. “I'm getting bigger, everyone says. Pert near grown. Sometimes I need me a knife. You better not tell.”

  That night after Ma trimmed the lantern's wick, and everyone settled in, she put her mouth to Aaron's ear. “Want that piece of candy you give me?”

  The whites of his eyes shone as he nodded. He held his hand out, and she dropped the licorice into his palm. “What song do you want to hear?”

  “I don't care, sing what you want to. Thanks for the candy, Lesha.”

  It took two lullabies, but finally the songs overcame the sugar, and he drifted off. She sang a third for good measure then eased him over into his bed.