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

by Caryl McAdoo

Flynn wanted to run after her. Tell her it was all a big mistake. But it wasn’t. Right then, he couldn’t put another straw on his back—much less a wife and the babies she’d want around the corner.

  Half a mile or so, Laud climbed aboard. Flynn figured to drive for him, give him a little break, but he didn’t hold his hands out for the reins as expected.

  “Lover’s spat?”

  “Does everyone know my business?”

  “Of course.” He laughed. “We’re family. Let’s see if I have it right. Seve gave his permission for you and Alicia to marry, but you told her you wanted to wait. That about it?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re a smart man, Flynn. But she doesn’t think so.”

  “You nailed it. She says we’ll face it all together. That we’ll be fine. But she’s thinking with her heart not her head. Why does she have to be so emotional? If she only stop and think.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, most women have that tendency, and what’s bad about it is that logic doesn’t faze them. Not at all. It’s the way they are.”

  After chewing awhile on what his uncle said, he handed over the reins. “I’d like to walk a ways. Any suggestions?”

  His uncle shook his head then nodded toward the new team. “Any bad habits I need to know about?”

  “None I’ve seen. No advice then?”

  He laughed. “Keep on loving her.”

  That part was no problem. He’d love that girl until the day he died. He jumped down. He’d been in love with her most of his life.

  “Hey, Miz O’Neal, it be fine if I comes up?”

  Liberty looked to her left. Izzy trotted beside the wagon. “Certainly, of course. Come on up. I'd enjoy the company.”

  The slave rode the wheel to three-quarters then hopped onto the seat. How many times had Liberty scolded Flynn when he was younger for doing the same thing? Instead of saying something to the girl though, she only smiled.

  “What a nice surprise.”

  “Yes’sum. Miz Gabby said for me to comes drive a spell for you on account her and Miz Alicia. They be walking with her mama, and I guess Gabby figure you might like to join theyselves.”

  “Well, how dear. I truly would.” She handed the reins over, scooted to the seat’s edge, then turned and looked back. “Are you a Christian, Izzy?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. I sure is. For years now, and my pap before me, too. But not his pap. That man wouldn’t never let go of the old religion, being black as spades African and all.”

  “That's a shame.”

  “Yes'sum.”

  With a nod, she watched the ground again, waiting for the perfect timing, then spun around again. “I hope you won't count me as intruding, but is Corbin your baby’s father?”

  “Oh, no, ma'am. He a good man, not a Christian though. Not no more.”

  “No? I mean, that’s good he isn't the father. Why would you say he isn’t a believer anymore?”

  The dark-skinned woman corrected the mules' direction with a click and shift of the reins, then glanced over. “He say so. Blames the Good Lord and all. Gets real sad sometimes, he does. Especially when he be drinking, but that's over his miz. He loved her powerful.”

  “Understandable.” Liberty smiled, patted the girl's hand, then scooted more toward the seat's edge. A hand touched her arm.

  “Ma'am, if I tells you a thing, can it be our secret?”

  Liberty definitely wanted to hear what the girl had to say, but could she give her word? “Tell me, and I'll keep it between us if I can.”

  The slave nodded, looked at the mules for a couple of the wheels' turns, then swallowed. “Well, Miss Gabby? See, she's in the family way, too.”

  “Oh.”

  The girl's black eyes stared into hers, and she stared right back, searching, questioning. “It were Mister Corbin's nephew what bedded her. His man Lester's been coming to my cabin for a while when Junior finally talked Miss Gabby into loving him.”

  Liberty's cheeks warmed. “Where was Corbin when all this was going on?”

  “Him and his brother be drinking a lot around that time, over his mizzus and all.”

  “Does this Junior know about Gabby's baby?”

  “Yes’sum, he sure do, and that scoundrel run off when he hears it. That’s when Mister Corbin decided he best get hisself and Miz Gabrielle to Texas.”

  “Thank you for telling me, Izzy.” She scooted closer and hugged the girl. “I’ll not betray your trust.”

  “Thanks for that, Miz O’Neal. There’s more iffin you want to hear it. I thinks you should.”

  Wow, more than Gabby being with child? Of course, she wanted to hear. Liberty filled her lungs. “Speak on then.”

  “On that night when Mister Flynn and his pap was fiddling in Charlotte at that big shindig? Well, late that night after things all got quieted down, Miz Gabby, she tries to climb into your Flynn’s wagon.”

  She gasped. “What? Are you sure?”

  “Yes'sum, I wouldn't never tells you a thing if I don't be sure about it. Way I know is I follows her that night on account Mister Corbin, he be passed out. I fears she get herself into trouble with one of the young men, but—”

  “What did my son do?”

  “Oh, he wouldn’t let her in. No, ma’am. She be begging him, too. Claiming she be cold and wanted him to warm her up. But I be figuring it were loving she wanted . . . on account the baby not having a pap. But your boy, he sent her right away. Stood his ground he did. Mister Flynn, he wouldn't have it.”

  Relief washed over Liberty. “Thank you for telling me that too, Izzy.”

  “Yes'sum. I be figuring it probably come out sooner or later since the Good Book say your sins going to find you out. I really like Mister Flynn. Thought his mam ought to know she and her husband raised a good man. Honorable and all. Might comfort you some with your mister passing.”

  “Yes, Izzy.” She took the woman's hands in hers, reins and all, and squeezed them. “It certainly is a great comfort.”

  Sliding on over to the edge of the seat for the third time, Liberty waited for more news, but the girl went to humming a song under her breath, and she took that as a sign the slave had said her peace.

  She patted Izzy on the leg, then hiked her dress over her shoes, climbed down, and jumped out onto the ground.

  The gaggle proved easy enough to find. The two little girls followed closely behind the women. She caught up then fell in beside Mallory. “What have I missed?”

  “Plenty!” Alicia spun around, walking backwards right in front of her. “I'm so glad you're here, Mam.” Her future daughter—in—love glanced at her mother who gave her a little nod and smile. “Pa finally said we could marry! But your son says we have to wait!”

  “Oh. Well. That's a surprise. Wait for what?”

  “Exactly!” The poor thing's eyes brimmed with tears. “Money! Stupid filthy lucre! He doesn't think we have enough.”

  “Oh, well. I'll talk to him, sweetheart. Maybe we can figure it all out.”

  “You will?” The tears dried up. Alicia wiped her cheeks, leaving hope where the tears had wet her cheeks. A golden ray spread across her face. “Thank you, Mam. Is that fine, Aunt Liberty? Me calling you Mam?”

  “Oh, yes, darling.” She held her arms out, and the girl walked into her embrace.

  Nothing else of great importance pierced the quilt of their conversation, a stitch or twelve about the wedding dress, then a few more on the extra wagon and how its cargo might be redistributed.

  Alicia’s countenance changed for the brighter with every thread pulled through the fabric of their new life. A dream come true . . . Flynn and Alicia together, making a family.

  Too bad that pigheaded Seve couldn't have left the matter to her and Mallory as she'd asked him to. No. He just had to stir things up and go and tell Flynn.

  Mercy.

  Men!

  Well, the only thing that really mattered at that point was getting Flynn married and grand babies on the way. She'd ha
ve a talk with him at her earliest convenience.

  That night, long after Charity Grace cried herself to sleep, Liberty stared at the whiskey bottle Corbin had given her and considered drowning her own sorrow. Instead though, she retrieved her journal, ink, and quill.

  Day Nine

  Wednesday, September 23, 1840

  ~ + ~

  “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.” Psalm 42:11

  We camped near a nice family, the Gibsons, and traded four sacks of cotton seed for a smoked ham, four dozen eggs, a big tub of butter, and three gallons of milk. Bless their hearts.

  But then my brother also threw in shoeing one of their mules, and Seve talked up our seed as if he were selling some all-healing elixir.

  We hear it's still better than forty-five miles to Memphis, and Seve thinks we should get there by noon or so on Saturday. It will certainly be nice to have a day and a half off.

  Then again that's what I thought when we pulled into Jackson. I'm doing my best not to show my sorrow and grief. My heart feeling dead helps. It's still numb. Thank God.

  Even after Charity Grace's nice dream about her papa in heaven last night, she still cried herself to sleep again. How could I not join her? But after a bit, my poor eyes ran out of water.

  Seve up and told Flynn he now gives his blessing for him and Alicia to wed, but my dearest son, poor baby, carries the weight of the world on his shoulders since his papa left.

  As much as I know he loves Alicia, he told her it'd be better for them to wait. I pray that it isn't because he thinks he needs to take care of me and his sister.

  I would never put that on him.

  But I told Alicia I'd talk with him, try to find out what all it is. The opportunity never presented itself today, and then she pulled him off right after supper. They're so cute together.

  How I'd love being a fly on the tree and privy to that conversation. Mallory and I agreed it looked as if they mostly just sat and held hands.

  They definitely were not doing much talking.

  She dipped her quill then stopped before it touched the page. She best not put to paper what Izzy told her, except the best part.

  Did have one sweet blessing today. Maybe my heart isn't dead after all, because when I discovered that Izzy is a believer, a bit of joy flickered there. That and that Corbin isn't her child's father.

  Next time we go to a church building, I'm insisting she come along.

  After pondering a while of some other things that could be included in the news for the day, she decided not to waste the paper and ink on them. Returning everything into the box her baby gave her, she stashed it away then blew out the lantern.

  A nearby owl hooted. Her hand found the cool glass of the bottle of liquor. Maybe just one nip to help her get to sleep.

  The one led to three, then she put it up after that. If that much didn't work, she'd just have to stay awake all night and wonder what she'd do when they got to Texas. She wanted Flynn to have his life, and that didn't include taking care of Charity Grace and her.

  “Mam?”

  Liberty peeked.

  Her Charity Grace smiled. “Aunt Esther's got breakfast all ready, and Uncle Seve says we best shake a leg, or we'll get left behind.”

  She bolted straight up. A bit of gray-blue light shown around the back flap. Barely false dawn. She couldn't wait until Saturday when no one would wake her at the crack of dawn. Didn't they know when she slept she didn't hurt?

  Then again, if everyone waited on her to get her nap out, no one would be on the road before noon.

  Eggs, butter for the biscuits, and sweet milk. A feast! What more could a body want to start a new day? She halfway expected a ham slice, but her sister-in-law said she thought she'd save that for Sunday dinner.

  The day proved long and boring, and taking note of Mallory and Seve interacting, laughing with each other . . . then her brother helping his sweet wife tend the children when the clan stopped for dinner . . . She sighed.

  How could she go on without dear Reagan? Only thing she could do was hang on tight to Jesus. He promised He'd never leave her.

  Since she'd gone to sleep so easily last night, she assumed that night would be better, but even after four nips, sleep remained elusive, always out just beyond her grasp. Memories taunted her. No matter how she tried, she couldn't quit thinking of her husband back in Jackson. Seeing the mortician hauling him off, putting him in the ground.

  Oh, sleep! Why do you reject me? I need you. I need your nothingness.

  After cuddling with her baby until she puffed her little sleep breaths, Liberty gave up and sat up. She lit the lantern and got out the journal.

  Day Ten

  Thursday, September 24, 1840

  ~ + ~

  “I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8

  Baby girl cried some, but I didn't. She's asleep now.

  Izzy came and drove for me again. I got into the wagon with Flynn, but he stopped me before I even got going. He no longer needs his mother or her advice, so I got right out and walked some by myself.

  That grew old.

  I don't know what I can say to set him free. I just took my reins back and thanked Izzy. Right before she left, she pointed out a new bottle she'd brought from Corbin. He is a good man.

  She leaned back. What would Reagan think? She was the one who fussed whenever he took a nip or three. What was worse though? Enough whiskey to take the edge off or not getting any rest?

  She stared at the page. Never should have recorded that and would erase the part about the bottle if she could. Maybe she could tear the page out and redo it. No, the journal had been saddle-stitched. Tearing the page would look bad and loosen the others. No one would probably ever see it anyway, and she was being truthful.

  Seve found a nice spot outside the community of Gallaway, at least that's what the sign said. We didn't see anyone, but then we didn't go looking.

  Maybe Memphis tomorrow, but Seve thinks we're still too far.

  The bit of glow her lantern made disappeared, but Corbin continued eyeing her wagon from the tree he'd been leaning against, standing his watch. He'd quizzed Izzy earlier, but the girl said Miss Liberty made no comment regarding his gift.

  Seemed to him she'd been in bad shape the morning after he sent the first one, but not so much the last two. A smart woman. But then he'd notice that. Smart and beautiful. What a stroke, Reagan getting himself snakebit.

  Yep, Texas was a long way off, and Corbin fancied himself a patient man.

  But not too.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Reaching the outskirts of Memphis on Friday evening suited Flynn just fine.

  Who cared if supper came late? Having two days off would be akin to heaven. Except his womenfolk had all turned against him, even Charity Grace had taken her turn telling him what an idiot he was and what a big mistake he was making.

  “I'm ready to be an auntie, and I'll be a good one, too! Mam wants a baby, too, soooo . . .” Her sing—songy high-pitched voice still rang in his ear as he worked helping Laud see to the mules. After the last feed bag and set of hobbles were strapped on, he eased next to his uncle.

  “What's Auntie's take? I heard from all the other females in my life. At least, Ma Van Zandt hasn't accosted me.”

  “Oh, you know. She loves weddings. But she thinks you're being real smart to wait.”

  “That's good. Thought you said weren't any women who listened to logic.”

  “I found one who does, though. She's real special.” He chuckled.

  “You come up with any advice?”

  The older man's eyes twinkled. “Well, now that you ask . . . Seems to me . . .” He looked around then put his arm on Flynn's shoulder and spoke some real good advice into his ear.

  “See?” Flynn grinned. “Always knew you were a smart m
an.”

  “Esther gets some credit, too, but I'll not step on your surprise by telling her so . . . not until after.”

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”

  With supper being so late, it surprised Flynn that Alicia's pa gave her leave to sit with him anyway.

  Then, who wanted to be on the receiving end of his love's wrath? He sure didn't, but besides waiting being the right thing, it'd occurred to him if he fought this battle and won, perhaps the next time he put his foot down, she'd . . .

  He laughed at himself.

  Who was he joshing? Alicia's passion was one of the very things he loved about her, and like the Lord's mercy, it was new every morning.

  Bless God he'd found the grit to stand his ground.

  She eased down on the chair he'd set out for her. “It's been a very good day. I mean us getting this far sooner than Pa expected. It could be a much better day if—”

  “Yes, ma'am.” He set his seat close enough to take her hand. “Having two days off will be great. You have any plans for tomorrow?”

  “Not really. Ma and Mam said something about going into town. Pa's wanting to see how much seed is going for. Why? Do you have any?”

  “Oh, thought I might ease on in. See what's there to see. I hear tell the Mississippi is an awesome sight.”

  She squeezed his hand hard then looked away.

  Ow, that hurt. “What?”

  “If you must know!” She filled her lungs then turned back. “I'd hoped we could see it together! Maybe even become man and wife on its grand banks. It'd make such a beautiful background and special memory.

  “But no! You aren't even willing to talk about it! I didn't know what I was getting myself into! You're worse than my father, and I'm plenty tired of being ordered around and my opinion counting for nothing!”

  Refusing to be drawn into that discussion, he let the silence hang. She didn't though.

  “Mam told me how rude you were to her. I've never known you to be downright rude, especially to your own mother when her husband hasn't even been gone a week. That was just heartless.