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

by Caryl McAdoo

  “Wait. That’s all I know. I could sell my fiddle, but that still wouldn’t be enough. Pa would get upset, too. It was his Papa’s.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t even think such a thing! I've been praying hard. God can change Pa’s heart and send us some help one way or another. He owns all the cows on a thousand hills. Maybe he’d be willing to sell one.”

  Like she figured, her mother called her in much too soon. Seemed Rich and Katy Kay were sleeping over one more night.

  The evening had cooled with the setting of the sun, a right nice night if he did say so himself. Flynn's eyes followed her, memorizing her moves, drinking in her beauty until she disappeared through her cabin's door.

  After he carried Mam's rocker and his cane bottom back inside then eased back over to the cook-fire. All the women and children had gone in except for Gabby and the slave girl, though the way she filled out her dress, Izzy looked more a woman than girl.

  He hated the idea of one person owning another. Too many people thought nothing of it and apparently liked it. If what he'd heard was true, England already outlawed it. But they didn't have many to start with.

  Unless something radical happened, he didn't see it changing anytime soon in the U.S.

  “What do you say, Son?”

  Focused on his father, he couldn't recall what he and the others had been talking about. “Sorry, Papa. My mind was elsewhere. What were you saying?”

  The old man grinned, his pearly whites flashing in the lantern light. “Dreaming about Alicia are you?”

  Not wanting to bring up slavery, he laughed along with him without saying no and shrugged.

  “Talking about having our own shindig right here on Friday night. Laud says Esther would just as soon stay home Saturday and Seve ain't going for sure.”

  “Fine with me, give us some practice time before we play for strangers.” He turned toward his love's father. “Sounds great to me. Think there'd be anyway Alicia and I could dance a waltz or two?”

  “Let me think on it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  For a while he stayed while the men chewed fat, but he kept catching Gabby staring at him and decided sitting there letting her wasn't right.

  Later while he waited for sleep, he pictured him and his love dancing the night away, but Miss Harrell kept cutting in. She was quite the dancer, too.

  Wait. What was wrong with him?

  Chapter Eleven

  First off, he grained all the stock, then Flynn took care of his chores by lantern light. Returning to the mules, he ran his hands over all their legs, checking for heat or tenderness.

  He gave all the iron a good tap then cleaned around their frogs. No stink or sores. That day's team was ready, if not willing, to work.

  By the first bit of pink light warming the eastern sky, he had them hitched to the wagon. Surprised him to see Esther sitting her porch, sipping coffee. “Morning.” He filled his cup then joined her. “Miss Josie Jo get you up early?”

  “Oh, with new ones, it's up and down all night and day. You like her name?”

  “I do, and you're right. It does go with Katie Kay.” He took a sip then ducked his head. Looking back up, he figured she'd keep his confidence. “Alicia's already been on me about babies’ names. She thought for a boy to call him Trey for the third—you know, named after me and Papa.”

  “It's a strong name all right. What about for a girl?”

  “Oh, I don't know.” He'd been thinking on some but wanted to try them out on Alicia. Maybe another female's opinion could be beneficial. “Victoria after the queen, or I like Bible names. Ruth or Naomi. Maybe Abishag. It'd be different.”

  “Abishag? Who was she?”

  “King David's last queen, the one who kept him warm when he was old.”

  “That's right. I remember that story.” She sipped her coffee. “It's a pretty name. Listen, Flynn. I don't mean to stick my nose in where it doesn't belong, but you best keep an eye out for that Harrell girl.”

  “Yes, ma'am. I will.”

  “Laud said she was eyeing you hard last night.”

  “Yes, ma'am. Her mooning sent me to bed early. Good thing Alicia didn't see it.”

  “Amen.” Esther stood and looked toward the front door. “You hear that?”

  “No, ma'am.”

  “A mama's ears are special keen, I guess.” She smiled. “Believe my wee Josie Jo wants her breakfast. Could you please ask Mallory to add some paregoric to my list? Figure I should have some on the trail, just in case.”

  “Yes, ma'am, sure will. Well, have a blessed day, Auntie.”

  The Van Zandts’ cabin door opened, and the light from inside framed his future mother-in-law. She strolled toward him, tying on her bonnet.

  “Morning, Ma Van Zandt.” He tossed his grounds into the fire then hurried to the wagon. “You're looking chipper this fine day.”

  “I am, and yes, it is a fine start.”

  To assist her up to the bench, he extended his hand. She took it and let him help her, then ran around to the other side. Like the good boys they were, at the lightest touch of the reins, the mules leaned into their day's journey.

  The sound of the trace chains jangling and leather creaking were music to his ears. He loved them. The wood groaned, and the wheels turned, kicking up a bit of dust.

  Shame he couldn't mimic those sounds with his bow.

  After the first creek, she turned sideways. “Seve said you asked about dancing with Alicia.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Well.” She smiled. “I convinced him it would be just fine, with the understanding that nothing else changed about you two being physical in any way.”

  “That's wonderful.” He chuckled. “And yes, ma'am. I understand. Thank you for interceding on our behalf.”

  “You're welcome, Flynn. I believe you'll make a fine husband one day.”

  Even without Alicia’s love and her ma being there, the cotton piled up high.

  At the end of that day’s labor, sure looked to her it wouldn’t take the whole day to finish tomorrow. She eased next to her father and waited while he weighed out all the Harrells’ lint.

  “Another good day, Corbin. You and yours hit a thousand and six pounds.”

  “That is a good number. You give any thought concerning what I asked about?”

  “Some. Talked to Reagan, too. Figured I'd bring it up this evening at supper with everyone, after my wife and young Flynn return. Looks to me we'll finish midday tomorrow, so we also need to be deciding when we're leaving.”

  Exactly what were they talking about? Why didn't anyone ever tell her anything?

  Her father and the other men acted like she and the ladies were little more than hired help. Mercy! She had a mind! And according to him and everyone else, she used it right nicely. So then, why would they think her opinion shouldn't count?

  Mister Harrell nodded, took a step back, then turned around. “What's your pleasure, Seve? Been noticing your word carries a lot of weight around the cook-fire.”

  “Don't know about that.”

  Alicia bit her tongue and looked at her hands. He was lying. He did too know how much what he thought influenced everyone in their clan. Matter of fact, he prided himself on figuring the best way to do a thing.

  And what he’d come up with always impressed everyone. Wasn’t anything he couldn’t figure out.

  “Don’t be modest. Speak your mind. I’d like to know if I have an ally.”

  Her pa shrugged. “You do.”

  “Good.” The man smiled then walked away, whistling a lively tune.

  Waiting until Mister Harrell was clean out of earshot, she came around and faced her father. “So, what was all that about?”

  “Oh, he says he’s sick of sharecropping and wants to tag along with us to Texas. Get himself some land. He's asked permission to join up.”

  “Oh. And you think that's a good idea?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one, Ma hates it that he keep
s Izzy a slave.”

  “He doesn't mistreat her, and what's the woman going to do to make a living?”

  “I don't know. Be a cook? She could hire out to take care of a rich family like the Jenkins. But she can't because Harrell owns her! Ma won't like it.”

  “Leave your Ma to me.”

  Truth be known, she didn't want them tagging along any more than her mother would. She definitely did not want to have to keep an eagle’s eye on Gabby.

  While on one hand, it might be nice to have her to talk with—only if Flynn had already said I do, because then she’d never need anyone but him to visit with.

  But on the other, who needed a back-stabbing friend who even thought about digging her claws into a man already spoken for.

  To her credit, besides that one time though, the girl had been minding her manners. She truly acted like she wanted to be a friend. But could she be trusted?

  That night after supper, someone must have tipped Flynn a big confab was coming, on account of he never made a move to sit his porch with her.

  After the last plate got washed and stacked, the three Harrells got themselves up and walked away. Someone had been talking; she suspected her pa. Then sure enough he stood.

  “Corbin asked if he and his are welcome to go with us to Texas.”

  “No.” Her mother leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. “Not as long as Izzy is a slave. That's about the sweetest girl I've ever met. She volunteered to help when Josie Jo came. Hard worker, too. Why she picks more lint than anyone. It isn't one bit right, him keeping her in chains.”

  “Mercy, wife. She’s not in any chains. And pray tell you me how she’d make it alone? Seems she likes the arrangement, feels like family.”

  “She could go north or anywhere she wanted if he didn't own her.”

  “She'd never make the trip. Do you have any idea how many slave traders are between here and there? She'd get caught and sold down the river.”

  “That’s nothing but wrong!”

  “I agree. But dear, if you're a negro in this country, having a good master is way better than being on your own. Corbin Harrell, far as I've seen, is a good man.”

  Her mother huffed, raised then brought her crossed arms even tighter over her chest. “He wants to go to Texas with us, let him set her free. That's what a good man would do. Then if she wants to come, too . . .that's a whole different story.”

  “Anyone else?”

  Her love's father looked right at her. “How do you and Gabby get along, darling?”

  Wow, she never expected to be called on. She surely didn't want to mention the girl's fingers in Flynn's hair, and she had enjoyed her company in the field.

  “Well enough, I suppose. We're only a year apart in age, so it's like Charity Grace and Arlene.”

  Aaron jumped to his feet. “How about me and Rich? We're thicker than thieves! Ask anyone.”

  A little snort escaped, but she managed to swallow the laugh. “Oh, yes, indeed, Brother. Like you and Richard, except I wouldn't say Gabby and I were thick as thieves.”

  “I wouldn't either if I were you.” Charity looked at the ground as if she hadn't said anything.

  The scalawag nodded. “All right then.” He eased back down to the ground, sitting cross-legged beside his shadow.

  “Anyone else?”

  No one spoke up, so her pa called for the vote. Six for, two against, Ma and Aunt Liberty. He whistled the Harrells back to the cook-fire. “You and yours are welcome, Corbin.”

  “Thank you, everyone.” Mister Harrell nodded around the circle. “We’re much obliged.”

  “Now, what’s your pleasure of when to be leaving?”

  After too many words, the option came down to Monday or Tuesday next. The latter won six to four when put to vote. Pa looked the circle over then smiled.

  “So, on the fifteenth day of September 1840, at first light, we'll turn our faces west and be gone to Texas.”

  Should she laugh or cry?

  Once Flynn finally got her in his mam's rocker on the porch with the lanterns lit and him sitting his chair, she shook her head. “Looks like we're not getting married in Tennessee.”

  He nodded agreement. “Are you excited that it’s almost time to leave?”

  “Aren't we going to even say anything? Don't we want to get married here? Ride our own wagon to all that way?”

  “But we don't have a wagon. Or the mules to pull one. I'm ready to get gone. Figure the sooner we get to Texas, the fewer days I'll be a bachelor.”

  “We could change that tomorrow if they'd let us.” She grinned. “I say we should at least ask. Maybe they'd most likely give us wedding presents enough for the mules. Maybe you and your papa could look for a pair in Charlotte come Saturday.”

  “Maybe. But your pa has a point about us needing a roof and a way to make a living. Think of this. If we keep all the cash we can—even if it means we have to wait a little longer—when we reach the Republic, then we should have enough to start out with a house and ground of our own. Wouldn’t that be better than a wagon and mules?”

  “Oooo, Reagan Flynn O'Neal, Junior! Why do you have to be so logical like Pa all the time?” She hated it, but she loved him so much.

  What was she going to do? “Guess we will at least get to visit more than here . . . and be closer all the time on the trail.”

  “I've thought about that, too.”

  And she sure didn't want to mess up getting to dance with him the following night over pushing him off the porch. Plus, if she did that, she have to kiss him to make amends.

  Movement pulled her gaze toward the cook-fire. Aaron raced toward her then slid to a stop short of the first step. “Rich and Katie Kay wants to sleep over again. That loud-mouthed baby is hard to take.”

  He stepped up one rung. “We'll be gooder than gold. I promise! Ma said it was up to you.” He smiled extra big. “Please. Please, sweet Sister. And thank you, too! Can they, please?”

  Mercy, how could she tell that one no? “Fine, Aaron, since you asked so politely. Yes, they may.”

  He held his hand out. “Ma says you got to come right now if it’s a yes.”

  “Mercy, boy! Why didn't you tell me that first off? Play like I haven’t answered you yet then. Sit right down on that step and let me think about it again.”

  Plopping down onto the porch step with a scowl, he scrunched his shoulders and rested his head on his fists. “You gotta hurry up, Sister. They said we got to get to bed.”

  With a glance at Flynn, she shrugged. “I'm sorry.”

  “That's all right, we've got the party tomorrow evening.”

  She stood and straightened her skirt.

  The pouter looked up and smiled at Flynn. “Good night, partner. See you come morning.”

  “Come on then, you.” She held out her hand to her baby brother.

  The clan and its hired help finished picking an hour after supper the next day.

  It looked as though both wagons should be plum full for Flynn and his papa to take Saturday. She hated it that he'd be going without her, but he had given his word, and Jenkins wanted his big shindig.

  And he'd only be fiddling, no dancing at all.

  Ahead of her and the little girls in line, once he weighed out, he threw her a wink then grabbed up his little partners and headed toward the woods along the creek to check that line of snares.

  Her hackles rose when it looked like Gabby was going to cold trail them, but she turned off and strolled toward the shed.

  Had she seen Alicia watching?

  After weighing her half-full sack of lint that brought her total to eleven dollars and eighty-eight cents, less the dollar Pa already gave her. Not even enough money for one mule, much less half a wagon.

  On her way back to the cabins, Ma informed her she’d been elected to help with Katie Kay and Josie Jo while the ladies cooked.

  With her eight dollars from her grandmother and the fifteen Flynn had coming—did he ever tell her how much of h
is trapping money from last winter he still had or what he gave for his fiddle?

  Whether or not, it appeared the sad story of it was she and her beloved had no hope of their own wagon and mules to pull it.

  Anyway, she didn’t want him to sell his fiddle. Why some people called them violins, she couldn’t imagine. Would he really have sold it?

  If the last of the lint brought the same nine and a half cents that the load Flynn and Ma took yesterday, then according to Pa, the whole clan would have over fourteen hundred dollars from the harvest. Mercy, fourteen hundred.

  What a blessing! She loved harvest time. It had to be the best. Much better than getting the fields ready or planting. Certainly, a thousand times better than chopping those nasty weeds.

  Would they split it three ways, or keep it all together in his strong box for the journey that lay ahead?

  When would she collect her cash? She preferred coins. Paper money was risky as far as she was concerned; paper could burn or wash away in a flood. No, she liked coins. Greenbacks were fun to look at being so fancy and all.

  But in the end, still just a piece of paper the government claimed they would trade for gold.

  Once out of the sun, she learned both Katie Kay and her new baby sister were napping, so she helped with kneading the dough. She loved it when Auntie made yeast-rising light bread. More work than biscuits, but well worth the trouble. And from the look of it, there’d likely be two rolls each.

  “Any preserves left?”

  Her mother wiped her hands on her apron. “I'd rather have honey, but if Flynn and the boys bring back enough rabbits, I was thinking about frying a couple of them. Mostly for the gravy. Esther's light bread covered in thickening gravy . . . now that's worth writing home about.”

  “So, did you write Grandma? Tell her we're going on to the Republic?” Alicia definitely agreed on the bread, but did home mean her grandparents up north? Tennessee or Texas? Where was home?

  “Anyone ever say where in Texas we're heading?”

  Aunt Esther stretched. “Laud said he heard Austin was booming, almost like a gold rush town. But it’s the capital.”