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

by Caryl McAdoo

  Imagine buying a thousand acres for a fraction of what land was going for there in Tennessee.

  The men had the teams all hitched and ready by the time Liberty and the other ladies had all the bedding stowed. Coffee pots and dutch ovens and breakfast frying pans all hung on their hooks along the sides of the wagons.

  The sun still hadn't broken the dawn.

  Seve stood next to the lead wagon, looking back. “Appears we're ready, friends.”

  Laud hooped. Then too many hollers sounded at once to pick out any one voice. Those with feet still on the ground all climbed aboard.

  Leather slapped rumps.

  The wheels on the lead wagon turned.

  Like a caterpillar moving its head first, one by one, the prairie schooners joined the parade.

  “Bless us, Lord. Keep us safe.” She bumped her shoulder against Reagan’s.

  “Amen.”

  Twenty-two miles was what Seve figured the train had made once he stopped for the evening. Citizens of a little Irish settlement the wagons passed through that afternoon claimed to be twenty miles from Charlotte.

  How could her best friend’s husband know anyway? Still, a good start even if she'd had to battle the setting sun from blinding her for the last hour before he finally found a good spot to stop.

  Mallory claimed her man would make a good general, but for Liberty's money, Seve needed a bit more humility. No arguing he had a head on his shoulders and had an easy way about him, but still . . . as pigheaded as they came.

  If that man set his mind to a thing, might as well forget trying to reason.

  Once the camp quieted and all the lanterns but hers went dark, Liberty untied her apron, loosened her skirt’s button, and sat cross-legged on the pallet, wicking her light up a bit. She retrieved her journal, ink, and feather.

  Still hadn’t listed everyone’s full names, but she could make a sheet for each family in the back of the book.

  Day One

  Tuesday, September 15, 1840

  ~ + ~

  “Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.” Ecclesiastes 7:8

  Twenty-two miles covered today.

  The new pair of mules didn't take well to being hobbled, but Flynn and Laud got them settled. Soon as they made camp that evening, Aaron and Richard slipped off. Bless God Izzy spied them heading out.

  Both boys were discovered soon enough. No harm done except to their little hind-ends. Aaron should have gotten double licks, and I told Mallory as much.

  I walked two different times, and it didn't bother me at all. Reagan padded my seat best he could. Shame I can't sit my rocker during the day, but they say we'd have to take the wagon's seat out, and I didn't want to have him do that.

  Sparks flew briefly when Laud relieved Flynn driving the new wagon to give him a chance to stretch his legs. Out of nowhere, Gabby walked beside him. Alicia must have been watching though.

  Almost as instantly, there she was, walking between the two. Hope she and Miss Harrell don't hurt each other over my son.

  Maybe I should have a talk with Seve. Seems Mallory sure can't convince him that it would be better for them to go ahead and marry. Bring an end to the mess before someone gets hurt.

  Esther reported that a young man in McEwen, the Irish community where we rested the mules and ate our dinner yesterday's corn bread and jerky, wanted to buy some seed. Seve sold him a hundred pounds at a cent and a half. An extra greenback and four bits for the strong box.

  Thank the Lord for the blessing.

  “Lib, it's getting late. You're the one insisted we leave early tomorrow.” He patted the pallet.

  After corking the ink bottle and storing the quill and journal, she snuffed the light then carefully set it securely in the corner in easy reach. For reassurance, she touched the matchbox then swung around and stretched out.

  Not her old bed, but it'd been a long day. Hadn't realized she'd grown so weary.

  At least she had her mattress.

  With her husband curled beside her, it would do.

  Esther tickled Josie Jo’s chin, but the baby wouldn’t wake up. Her second breast needed relief, but the little one was obviously full. Esther eased her into her dresser drawer, righted her own gown, then rolled over next to her husband.

  “Katie Kay asleep?”

  “Yes.” Laud whispered a bit too loud. His arm slipped under her head, and she snuggled in tight. “Mercy, did you see what Gabby did today? That girl’s got it bad.”

  “No, but Flynn told me all about it.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  He pulled her to him and kissed her lightly. “If Flynn approves, I’m going to have a word with Seve.”

  “Think that’ll do any good?”

  “I don't know, sugar, but if Flynn and Alicia were married then . . .”

  “Do you really thing that would stop Gabby?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No. To be so blatant, the girl is lovesick. I don’t think it will.” Esther waited for her husband to respond, but he fell silent. Him telling her what happened in town after the dance troubled her.

  What should she do? She wanted to bring it up after supper with everyone, shine some light on it, but Laud had sworn her to secrecy.

  And even though he didn't get the Bible out, she was honor-bound to keep quiet. She loved knowing a thing but hated not being able to tell Liberty. For sure Flynn's mam wouldn't keep her peace.

  But maybe that's what was needed. Get her action on out into the light.

  That would hurt Alicia though. She'd lose a friend for sure.

  Then again, what kind of friend is that girl?

  Chapter Fifteen

  In the cook-fire's shadow behind her wagon, Esther rocked Katie Kay, keeping an ear out for Josie Jo. Of late she’d been latching on and gulping her dinner like a suckling piglet, gaining weight and looking so healthy.

  Her back had come around and was feeling half-decent. If only her seater wasn’t so sore. She sure loved the extra padding for her rocker.

  Her husband, with their son draped over his shoulder, finally left the camp-fire, carrying his chair with his free hand, and walked toward the wagon. She peeked to find her big girl had fallen fast asleep.

  Laud set his chair next to hers, then put his mouth to her ear. “How’s my wee ladies? My sack of taters it out for the night.”

  “They’re asleep.”

  In hushed tones Esther learned Flynn asked Laud not to say anything to anyone. She slowed to barely any movement at all. “Did he say why?”

  “Only that he’s not ready. Not enough money. And he figures maybe her father does know best.”

  “Smart boy, except he really is way past being a boy.”

  “At least Gabby didn’t do anything stupid today.”

  “Amen.” Katie Kay stretched an arm into the air than turned and snuggled in tighter. “But I noticed you only spelled Flynn when Gabby handled their wagon herself.”

  “Did you, now?” She couldn't rightly see his mouth, but his grin toned the words. She leaned over and kissed him. “I think our babies are all good and asleep. We better lay it down. Seve acts like we’d be sinning if we’re not gone by first light.”

  And just as Mister Van Zandt wanted, the wagons rolled away that third morning when a body could barely see the road. Maybe he found his way watching the North Star. Still.

  Stopping at four of an afternoon—by his pocket watch, who knew if it kept good time?—had certainly been a treat. She shifted on the bench padded with two quilts. The day had just begun, and her poor seater already squealed.

  After only two days, she was about sat out.

  For supper that night, everyone got beans with ham hock, cornbread, two roasting ears each, and a spoonful of pear preserves for dessert. Not fancy, but delicious and filling—even if Esther said so herself.

  Reagan and Flynn broke out their fiddles soon as everything was cl
eaned up. Before they got their bows rosined up, Seve stood. “A word before we have a song?” His eyebrows lifted, as though waiting. “If you please.”

  “Sure.” Reagan nodded and laid back.

  “As we all heard, Aaron and Rich saw a critter today.”

  “It were a bear, Pa.”

  Rich jumped to his feet. “Yea, a big one.”

  The un-elected, but unanimously accepted leader threw his son a look. The boy shrugged then ducked, and Rich sat down in place, bowlegged.

  “Whatever it was, I’ve been thinking. A wild beast—the two or four-legged kind—could come into camp without any notice of a night.”

  “I know!” Aaron jumped to his feet. “We need us a dog!”

  “Sit down, Son”

  With a chuckle, Laud sat forward, but not too close to the fire. “What are you suggesting, Seve?”

  “There’s five of us men, four two-hour watches with everyone getting a night off before starting his next rotation.”

  “Good idea.” Liberty’s husband usually spoke up in favor of Seve’s ideas. His logic apparent.

  Corbin chimed in. “I'll stand mine, gun primed and ready.”

  Esther’s dearest nodded. “Me, too.”

  Seve looked to Flynn. “That’s four for, you want to make it unanimous?”

  “Yes, sir.” Flynn looked to Laud who nodded then back to Seve. Poor boy. He shouldn’t have to worry about being alone, minding his own business. “Happy to oblige. I’ll do my part, sir.”

  Guard duty settled, a lively tune filled the air. The quick fiddle notes played chase on the cool evening breeze.

  The children had enough grit to dance a bit, but no one else wanted to shake a leg. After a couple of polkas, Reagan lifted his bow and nodded to his son. “Play that one you wrote.”

  Grinning, Flynn closed his eyes, raked his bow over the strings slowly, then pushed it back twice as fast. A lovely melody encircled the camp. After a bit, he looked right at Alicia, opened his mouth, and sang.

  “From Tennessee to Texas, I'm sure to love you true! And there be building a cabin sound so that I can marry you!”

  Even in the fire light, the sparkle in Alicia's eyes was apparent. Could two young people love each other any more? Only seemed she maybe wasn't as happy toward the end as at first. She didn't want to wait, and Esther understood.

  After a couple more tunes, the lateness of the hour stopped the fiddling, and the camp's dancers, drained of most energy, were sent to lie down.

  A couple more songs would have been nice. But Seve was right. Again.

  Liberty leaned against the two-seed-sack-high half-wall Flynn arranged for her and retrieved her journal, ink, and feather.

  Laying on his side, Reagan stared. A wry smile graced his face.

  She held the lantern out just to make sure she was reading him right. “What are you smiling about?”

  “The bear. You putting Aaron's sighting in your journal?”

  “Sure.” She replaced the light, so it illuminated her paper. “But only that he reported seeing one, and Rich swearing to it.”

  “Did you see the look on Gabby's face when Flynn played his song?”

  “Poor thing.” She nodded. “I almost feel sorry for her.”

  “Don't. That girl would be a horrible match for our son.”

  “Amen.”

  “Get on with writing.” He laid back. “But don't be too long. I drew the fourth watch, and that light is really bright.”

  Day Three

  Thursday, September 17, 1840

  Should she be wasting ink with the day and date? Anyone with a mind could figure it out. Being the third day, but then . . . knowing right off if someone asked would be nice, too. She dipped her quill.

  ~ + ~

  “But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear:” 1 Peter 3:15

  Not much to report from yesterday, made twenty-three miles. Everyone, including me, is plum tuckered, and we’ve only just begun. Funny how sitting a bench could seem harder than picking that lint.

  Maybe it's worse for knowing how far away Texas is. With all those long days of travel to come then physically working ten times harder. So much work to do, houses, fences, garden and crops . . .

  Praise the Lord, there is in only one day to live at a time, and eventually, the reward will be enjoying the fruits of our labor.

  Today got a good start. Midmorning, Aaron claimed he saw a bear, but we all doubted it. Reagan figures it's probably only a stray dog or coyote, if at all. Of course, Rich swore to it.

  Then after supper, the men decided to start taking turns standing two-hour watches through the night. Not a bad idea, but Seve used said bear as an excuse. My concern leans more toward those two-legged kinds of wild animal, and as I suspect my husband’s and Seve’s does.

  Why hadn't someone thought of that before?

  Talk is that we might make Jackson tomorrow, the day after for sure. The possibility of selling enough seed to buy another team of mules has been discussed.

  Laud claims we’ll wear the ones we’ve got out too quick, moving the amount of weight we are. We also talked about giving all of them, and us, a day off every Sabbath. Remembering the day of rest couldn't be a bad thing.

  Corbin says he'd like to partner on the new team, and that he'd like his animals to have the extra rest in rotation, as well.

  Her husband patted the covers. She glanced over then went to putting all into its proper place, careful to note where the matchbox sat before she snuffed the light.

  Though awake enough to realize when Flynn came for his father, she had no trouble dozing back off. Too soon he returned with the horrible news that it was four.

  “How do you know?”

  “Seve loaned us his pocket watch. We pass it to the next man.”

  Retrieving the matches, she lit the lantern then sat up enough to get her dress over her head. “Is Esther up?”

  “Nursing JoJo. Told her we'd see to getting the coffee pots boiling.”

  “Don't call the baby that, Reagan.” She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “Good thing on the coffee pots though. She's barely over having that baby girl and up during the night like she is. She doesn't need that duty.”

  Easing around the seed-sack half-wall, she stepped over Charity Grace then climbed down. “Bless us, Lord. Give us another good day.”

  “Didn't Esther volunteer? Since she was up anyway most times?”

  Men. They had no idea.

  The Lord answered her prayer and did bless them with another good day indeed. And at its end, when all quieted and only the night symphony of crickets and frogs filled her ears, she pulled out her writing materials again.

  Day Four

  Friday, September 18, 1840

  ~ + ~

  “Be thou diligent to know the state of thy flocks and look well to thy herds.” Proverbs 27:23

  Still seven miles to Jackson when we stopped late this afternoon, and the general was not happy about that. Seve announced we only made nineteen miles today—and that with us staying on the road an extra half hour.

  My not-so-little brother said the mules needed rest, or we'd be not getting half that out of them. That's when Seve countered with laying over on Sunday if we can find a good campsite in Jackson.

  Sounds great to me. Everyone will certainly be as glad.

  Maybe we could even find us a church to attend. It's been so long since we worshiped with a congregation, not that I don't love our services, I do. But there's something to be said about gathering in God's house.

  It's just special.

  Maybe Flynn's song sent Gabby the right message. The girl hasn't tried to get near our son at all since. I saw him cut his eyes toward Laud when standing watches came up, as well as my brother nodding.

  Certainly would like to be privy to what all that was about, but apparently, they don't want me or Reagan to kn
ow, whatever it is.

  Mallory hinted she may be with child again. Not in so many words, but she asked what I thought about Abel for a name, like she didn't remember asking me what I thought about the other half dozen 'A' names she asked me about with each pregnancy.

  I've thought about another baby, but Charity Grace was so hard on me, I just don't know. Sure wouldn't want to be pregnant before we get to Texas, but then, children are a blessing whenever they come.

  So, if and when ever the Lord see fit to bless us . . .

  She dipped her feather then chuckled.

  I’d truly rather have grand babies at this stage in my life. By all reports, they're the best.

  Cradling the rifle in his left arm, Flynn made a slow turn. In another week or so the new moon would give more light, but he had enough to make out the mules’ silhouettes.

  To his way of thinking, the last watch was nothing more than getting up at two instead of four, but that wasn't what troubled him about the whole thing.

  As yet, he'd not taken his turn on the ten to midnight, the time he figured would be his problem.

  According to Laud, Esther claimed nothing would help, the girl was lovesick. He looked over the circle of wagons. Movement. Someone was climbing down from the back of the Harrells’ wagon.

  He slipped behind the tree he'd been leaning against.

  Female from the look, but without more light . . . Did Corbin wear a nightshirt? The figure headed toward the bushes. Then after a bit, a strange gurgling noise sounded. Had she retched?

  The shadow girl returned to the wagon and climbed back inside. Must have been Izzy. Poor girl. Then a light dawned behind his salty eyes.

  What if it was Gabby?

  What if she wasn't lovesick at all, but had gotten herself in the family way and was hunting a husband?

  Laud would be up before long. Maybe he could get a minute alone with him. But then if that was the case, would marrying Alicia stop the girl's nonsense after all? With the Worleys of that mind . . .