by Caryl McAdoo
“I will, and I do.” He glanced at the group then stepped closer, too close. He almost touched her. “Got another surprise . . . your pa said one kiss was in order to seal our engagement.”
“Oh.”
The little red-headed devil in her chest climbed right into her throat, cutting off the ability to breathe. “A kiss?”
Had her heart stopped beating all together? She closed her eyes, and he pressed his lips to hers—a real . . . kiss. Her head swam. Not like the brush of his lips like in the garden's corn, but without a hug.
Must have been a part of Pa’s deal, but it didn't matter. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him tight. Little boys’ snickers carried over the fifty yards, but she couldn’t care less. He loved her, and she loved him.
Let them all laugh!
He pulled back. “Best let me go before your pa shoots me dead.”
“I don't want to ever let you go.” But she did as told. “Oh, mercy, Flynn, I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
“You're a strong man, Reagan Flynn O'Neal. I don't know how you can wait.”
Chapter Twenty
Sunday didn’t dawn so bright. A gray cloud covering blocked out the sun altogether, and a dark wall of clouds hung off in the west. Streaks of lightning flashed through them, and the distant rumbling of thunder threatened a good storm.
No one even mentioned skipping worship in town though.
Though Flynn enjoyed the church service, watching Alicia show off her ring to total strangers proved to be the best. He loved her expressions and explanations.
Plus, invariably, the listeners would look his way and smile. The ring had done the trick as he’d hoped. She hadn’t said one cross word about waiting.
As promised, Esther had baked the ham and served it with stewed potatoes, mixed greens, and yeast-rising rolls with real butter. Shame the milk hadn’t held up, but they did enjoy a spoonful of pear preserves.
Those were his second favorite right after honey.
The news Corbin announced at the Sunday dinner surely caught everyone’s attention. After the ladies excused themselves, the man threw his hat over his boot toe.
“Well, men, are any of you are interested in buying any of that buck and two-bits an acre land? If a body could buy enough land to live off across the river in Arkansas.”
Seve nodded, like considering settling in Arkansas instead of Texas. “Good price. It is, but I like free better.”
“Yeah.” Corbin spit. “But you have to wait three years before it's legally yours. A lot can happen in three years. Plus, no telling the quality of what's left. Pilgrims been streaming into the Republic for years now. And Arkansas is a state. Santa Anna ain't threatening to invade.”
Laud poked the fire with the piece of hickory he'd been carving. “Houston and his bunch took care of the General Santa Anna once. They can do it again if need be.”
Seve looked right at Flynn. “What do you think?”
“If we can get six hundred and forty acres each, just for homesteading . . . Even at a dollar and a quarter, I can't afford a hundred acres. We'll have houses and barns to build.” He shrugged. “Does the Arkansas land have any timber? Water?”
He shook his head. “I'm for going on. That's a nice parcel of land to own for the price of only living on it. Texas is where me and mine are headed.”
The others talked about it a bit more, but in the end all three agreed with Flynn. After a conversation on the subject of seed prices got going good, he spoke up again.
“I've been thinking, if we sell the extra seed and wagon, but keep the mules, we could have two teams for each wagon and pick up the pace some. Might make twenty-five miles a day with less stress on our animals.”
Seve shook his head. “A cent a pound isn’t worth it to my way of thinking. I’ve heard prime like ours is getting double that in Little Rock. And there’s no telling what it’ll bring in Texas.”
“And.” Laud held his stick up. “We’d be matching two mains on the same rig at times. No way around it. Also, can't forget Corbin's partners on one of the extra teams.”
Aaron who had been sitting his father’s lap jumped to his feet. “Hey! Me and Rich could ride them balky main mules! We'll slap them ears every time they lay ’em back and make ’em mind.”
Laud nodded then pointed his stick at the boy. “Yep, you two sure could do that, but what about when you're keeping Josie Jo and Katie Kay company after dinner?”
“Aw, that's no problem, Uncle Laud. We hate naps anyway. Right, Rich?”
The younger boy nodded but didn't seem so sure of his agreement. After a little serious consideration, he blurted out, “We do like it when Alicia reads to us though. Right, Aaron?”
The bigger boy shrugged then climbed back up onto his father's lap.
Plenty more discussion ensued, but no one championed his idea. No never mind. Even though he’d like being shed of driving most of every day. What once had been his wagon had become only the extra one, and Mam drove his.
With only a wagon between Alicia and the cook-fire where the men and boys sat, she wondered at how they could say so much about such totally boring and unimportant stuff.
Why wasn’t anyone quizzing Flynn about his reluctance to marry her? That's what she wanted to hear.
“Alicia? Are you paying attention, dear?”
“No, ma’am. Sorry.” She looked at her mother. “I was only wondering how they can say so much about nothing important.”
The lady she hoped one day to be like laughed. “Yes, they can do a lot of that. But what I asked was about your wedding dress. Do you want it to have those beads I showed you? If you do, I'd like to get on sewing them on before I put it all together.”
Truth be told, Alicia didn't really care one way or the other, but wasn't about to tell Ma that. “They are beautiful, but that's a lot of work.”
“I'd love to help you, Mallory.”
“Thanks, Lib.” Ma chuckled and turned to Alicia. “So. What you're telling me is that you don't care. Am I right?”
“Guess so. I mean the fabric itself is so gorgeous.” She scrunched her shoulders and glanced at his mother. “All I truly care about is marrying your son.”
“Amen.” Mam grinned. “Let’s put them on, Mallory. I'll help. She'll thank us later.”
“They are pretty, but if we did leave them off, she could wear it to church of a Sunday. The beads might make it a little too fancy. I don;t know. We'll see.”
On and on the ladies prattled about any and everything, but the men weren't any better. At least Ma and her best friend in the world spoke of interesting things. She let her mind's eye waltz back to the day before.
She’d got a harsh word from her father for being so forward, but he had a little gleam in his eye. Maybe he thought being a Gramps—or whatever his grandfather name might be, maybe she should ask him—wouldn’t be so bad.
A soon-to-be mother needed to know such things.
“Oh, no. Help me get the food put up.”
Alicia came back to the moment.
Drops the size of robins' eggs wet the dirt and splattered her face. She wiped her cheek then hurried around with Ma and Mam battening down the hatches. Before all was said and done, her clothes were soaked through, but so was everyone’s.
It rained hard all afternoon that Sunday and into the evening, but Liberty's wagon stayed dry.
Bless her brother's heart for him and Flynn waxing the canvas after the last storm. Laud came with leftovers during one of the breaks in the showers.
“Seve says we best plan on staying right here tomorrow. And I agree. Fighting the mud isn’t worth it.”
“Figured as much.” She nodded. “I hate scraping the wheels every half mile, never mind cleaning the mules’ hooves.”
“Amen.” He grinned. “Alicia drew Arlene and Charity Grace two lovely little girl figures from a cardboard lid my sweet wife gave her, so the young’uns are having great fun making paper clothe
s for their paper dolls. Yours wants to know if she can stay the night with Arlene.”
“Sure, that's fine. If it isn’t too crowded in their wagon.”
“Rich has Aaron over, so shouldn’t be.”
The thought of those two together in the wagon with the babies brought a laugh—when had she last laughed? Had it been with Reagan?
“Well, sounds to me like you best bring Katie Kay over to sleep over with her Auntie Libby to keep all the child swapping even.”
“You’d be sorry.” He laughed with her that time. “She’s a bigger Mama’s girl than ever since Josie Jo came along.”
“Oh, that’s perfectly normal. She’s only a little jealous of her baby sister getting so much attention.”
“That's what Esther said.” Laud turned off silent obviously reflecting a bit, staring at the lamp's wick. Its flame flickered in his eyes. Could her brother be feeling a little left out and jealous, too.
“Anyway, Seve’s playing chess with Flynn, and Alicia and Gabby are at Corbin’s with Izzy. He went to town.”
“In the rain?”
“Yep.” Laud nodded. “Claimed his slicker was top shelf and not to look for him until daybreak.”
“Well, then, tell Esther and Mallory—Izzy, too, if she'd like—that if they want, we could sew some later on Alicia's dress. Maybe after the babies give it up.”
“Will do. Need anything else, Sis?”
“No, thank you, dear. I appreciate the food and news.”
He grinned, climbed down, then stuck his head back in under the flap. “We've decided no self-respecting marauder—man or beast—would be out tonight. So, no one's standing watches.”
“That's plenty logical. I don't blame you men.”
With a wave, he was gone, and she was alone.
It'd been good to laugh again, even if for a bit.
Twice, a hard rain pounded the canvas. Flashes of lightning would light the night, and its thunder rumbled through, chasing it. What would thunder sound like from Heaven? Could Reagan hear it?
Could he see her?
A soft pitter-patter shower remained steady in between the pelting rains. That crazy Corbin. Had he gone for more liquor? Probably. Maybe more reasons, too. She appreciated him staying well-stocked though.
No one showed with thread and thimble in hand. Though she would have enjoyed the company, she certainly couldn't blame them.
Who wanted to be out and about in such a storm?
Two good nips finished off the first bottle of her sleep medicine, but she couldn't bring herself to crack the cap on the second.
Or could she?
A part of her thought to return it, especially after Corbin's little talk the other day. But maybe she'd misread him. Wasn't like she knew the man. Or had any idea of his motivations. However, her imagination had always been plenty active, and she couldn't be too far off imagining he might be interested in her.
Still, she was absolutely interested in no man. Not then and not ever. She'd had her one true love. Her children were getting along. Flynn, for all practical purposes, was grown, and Charity Grace would be before she knew it.
Poor baby. Who would walk her down the aisle?
While she understood—and in a strange way, appreciated—Mister Harrell's presumed interest, she hated the thought of that being the reason he might spend eternity in hell. On account of her unease keeping her from sharing the Good News.
As she lay and thought and listened to the rain falling on the canvas over her head, she rehearsed what she could say to Corbin the next chance she got.
In her mind’s eye though, she never pictured him repenting.
Lord, help me. Help him.
Alicia pulled back the wagon’s flap. The lightning had abated, and from the sound of it, the rain had let up some, but not by much. She dropped the canvas then scooted around. “If it doesn't stop soon, I’ll just have to get wet.”
“You could stay the night. Pap don't ever beat the sun up when he’s out and about.”
Though curious of what the friend’s father was doing, she couldn't imagine what could be worth walking all the way to town in the rain and mud. And she wasn't about to ask.
“No. I appreciate the offer, and it’d be fun, but I promised Pa I’d be back tonight. I do not want to give him any reason to worry or get all protective over me again. He’s really been amazing of late.”
“I've noticed and understand.”
A light snore turned Gabby’s head, then she glanced back and scooted closer. “Izzy’s out, but she’s always the first up, too.” Gabby moved even closer. “Can I tell you something, and it’ll stay just between us?”
“Of course. Isn’t that what friends are for? Sharing and keeping each other's secrets?”
“Yes, I guess. So good.” She leaned in and cupped her hand behind Alicia’s ear. “I'm going to have a baby.”
What? “What?”
“I'm pregnant.”
Pulling back, she studied Gabby’s face. The lantern’s light, wicked down to the tiniest nub, proved too dim to get a really good look. “Gabrielle! Who's the pa?”
“Junior. He’s my cousin. After my mother . . .” She shook her head. “Uncle and him came to console Pap I guess, and well, they stayed on a while. The cotton was doing good. Our Izzy and Uncle's slave took care of all the chopping. She and him started staying in her lean-to at night.
“But . . . Oh, Lesha. Uncle and Pap stayed drunk most of the time, and Junior kept telling me how much he loved me—that we'd get married.”
“Oh no, Gabby. What happened? Why didn't you get married?”
“The sorry scoundrel run off when I told him.” She wiped her cheeks. “I told Izzy, and she told Pap. When he found out, decided to see if we could get ourselves out of Tennessee and far away where we could lie about the baby’s pap. You know the rest after that.”
“I am so sorry, but you know this isn’t something we can keep just between us much longer. It can’t be a secret forever. You’re bound to start showing.”
“I know. I’m sorry. June was such a scoundrel. But . . . well, I'm . . .” Little sobs jerked her, then the flood gates opened. Alicia wrapped her arms around her friend and rocked, letting her muffle her cries into her shoulder.
She sniffed. “You're so lucky having someone like Flynn who’s a good man and loves you so.”
“Yes, I’m blessed indeed.”
Liberty rolled over. The edges of the wagon's canvas flap remained pitch black. The sun hadn't beat her up that not so fine day. She sat up then flopped back down.
Ow! Her head throbbed. She held it with both hands.
Why did it hurt so bad? It all came back. She'd cracked the seal on that stupid second bottle.
Oh . . . but only after lying on top of her quilt—what?—three hours? Anyone would have thought listening to the rain would have helped put her to sleep. But it hadn't . . . and then it quit.
The silence proved even worse. She needed coffee . . . and more will power. Why had she given in? She'd told herself not to open the second bottle, but all her determination must have left with the storm.
If only the storm inside could take its leave.
If only Reagan would open the flap and tell her one more time the sun had beat her up or that he had the bath water heating. He spoiled her so.
‘Because I love you,’ he'd always said. But he'd never say it again.
And so, the thunder rolled over her heart, and the lightning flashed in her mind, and the rain wet her cheeks every time she found herself alone.
Would her storm ever end?
Patting around the quilt, she found the cool glass offender and examined it. Good, not that much gone. More than three-quarters of the amber liquid remained. Ow. How many nips had she taken? Three? Four? Or was it six?
Who cared? What did it matter?
From that day forward, she promised herself she’d not imbibe more than two of a night—and that only until she could start sleeping again. It hurt
something terrible to get herself together.
That first cup of heavenly coffee dulled the ache, and the second almost chased it away, but it lingered in the recesses to give her a pounding if she bent over. Most the clan slept later that morn. Esther, of course, was up and at it, but her sweet Josie Jo made a dependable little waker-upper.
Oh, to have a baby again.
Why had she and Reagan been so sensible after Charity Grace?
What was she thinking?
It would be bad enough for his grandchildren not to know him, but his own son or daughter to never have grown up enough to know what a wonderful man he was? No. She'd not wish that on any child.
And she’d have wee ones to fill her arms soon enough with her son marrying Alicia. She grinned. That girl would want a baby within the year once she said her 'I Do'.
Suited Liberty fine, too.
The day progressed about as expected. Chilly, muggy, a lazy, not-much-to-do day. She and Mallory got in some sewing and made good progress on her daughter-in-law-to-be's dress.
Having volunteered to keep Josie Jo so Esther could accompany Laud to go quiz the ferryman, she looked forward to time with her new niece. No one had bothered to see what time the ferry made its first run of a morning.
Though Seve was so obviously antsy to get gone, he knew well enough to wait until the next day.
There’d still be mud to deal with, but every day, it’d be less. Dealing with it was the worst, and no one but the babies was exempt from some part of the chore.
Her son came over, sat in his father’s chair, and visited some with her, but didn’t allow much. Corbin didn’t show up until midafternoon, well after dinner, but no opportunity presented itself for her to speak with him in private.
If she even should. On second thought, maybe Laud could talk with him. But older men usually didn’t like to hear from younger ones about much of anything.
Oh, well. God knew; and she’d keep praying.
