by Caryl McAdoo
Unlike other times, when he didn't dare look or study her face at all, he traced her features with his eyes. The hint of gray in her hair softened the few crows-feet at the corners and only added to her beauty.
Her small nose was perfectly straight, and she had a strong chin, but not too. Could she still bear a child?
A son. Might she possibly give him a son?
One like Flynn, but who looked like him instead of Reagan.
He leaned back in the chair and toyed with the idea of her giving him a child. Boy or girl, he'd love it. But a boy . . .
How many times had he and—he refused to even think the evil woman's name—fought over children? And truth be known, he couldn't be sure Gabrielle was even his. She looked and acted like her mother.
How could Gabby have gotten herself pregnant? Just like she had. And with that rotten Junior, taking her bait then running off like he did. How different would his own life have been if he'd done the same thing? Instead of trying to be honorable.
Wetness came to his eyes, but he blinked the tears away.
“Something wrong, Corbin?”
Taking his hat off, he tossed it over his outstretched boot toe. “No, ma'am, not a thing. It's a wonderful day. Your son and uh . . . I started to call her Miss Alicia, but that name doesn't fit anymore. Anyways, them getting married . . . it was a good thing.”
“Yes, sir. It certainly was.”
Liberty wanted to say more, perhaps quiz him about what had just happened to make him so sad, but someone was liable to come up. Her getting personal with the man wouldn't do, especially not on such a glorious day.
Her son, a married man! He'd make a fine husband.
That night even before Charity Grace dozed off, she got out the journal. Anxious to record each and every detail she could remember, she thought to the future.
One day, she'd read the journal to her grandsugars and relive their parents' wedding day with them. Long after she finished with the journal, she lay next to her big baby girl and wondered what she should do about Corbin.
In the end, it came down to—could she, should she trade her life for Izzy's?
Chapter Twenty-three
It certainly pleased Liberty that Seve gave the newlyweds until nine sharp to be back and ready to roll. She couldn't help but snicker to herself how that without a by-your-leave or may-I, Alicia straightaway got into the extra wagon with Flynn
The sweet girl sat so close to her son, a carpenter couldn't drive a nail between them with a sledge.
Young love, so sweet.
But then like everyone else in the clan, the couple was anxious to get to their new home. According to what Laud had gleaned at the saloon, Andrew's Titus trading Post in Mount Pleasant, Texas was still over two hundred miles away.
That meant at least another ten days on the road before any good idea of exactly of much further to the Trinity River Valley.
If that Jude person truly knew what he was talking about. Her brother had good sense though and a gift with judging character. Look at Esther. Still, she hated the men choosing the place to go on a stranger's word.
If she had her druthers, they’d travel until the land the Lord had waiting presented itself, and they all knew. She did not want to live through another Tennessee fiasco.
Had that horrible man not swindled everyone, she'd still be happy in the home her husband and son built with him by her side. If only . . .
Back on the road after dinner—it surprised her Seve allowed a stop at all—Corbin sent Izzy to drive for her. At first, she just thanked the girl, then right before she jumped down, turned back. “Would you like to be free?”
“Free?”
“Own your own self. Not be anyone’s property.”
“Dear Lord, yes!” The girl laughed then patted her chest. “More than my next breath of sweet air, Miss Liberty. Why, me and Pap would lay awake talking ’bout that very thing most nights. Thought a time or two of running, but he’d tried once and almost got hung over it. Instead, they beat him half to death.”
“What would you do if you were free?”
“Once we talked some ’bout finding my Mam, but with Pap dead, and me being so young when Mis’ess Harrell sold her off, well . . . I don't rightly know.” She laughed again.
“Guess I'd try and finds myself a Christian man.” She clutched her belly. “Someone to help raise this little one. Look over us.” She stared off as if seeing her knight in shining armor, coming her way.
Liberty nodded. The slave deserved a chance at a good life. One where someone else didn't tell her where to go and what to do. “Have you asked the Lord for forgiveness?”
“Yes, ma’am. But me and Buckeye—he’s the babe’s pap—we jumped the broom all right. But guess that don't count by the law. Weren’t free to promise ourselves to do nothing like that.”
“Mercy! Izzy, I’m so sorry.”
“Miss Liberty! What in the whole world do you have to be sorry for? You is ’bout the only white woman ever been so kind to me. And for no reason. I love you, ma’am. And I pray for you every night. Corbin Harrell may own my body, but he can't touch my soul. That belongs to me—and Jesus.”
Tears threatened, but she smiled them away. She patted the girl's leg. “Bless your heart, dear. I appreciate that.” She hiked her dress enough not to get tangled in her skirt then jumped down without it getting caught in the wheel.
Once on the ground again, she stood a minute then stretched. Corbin walked a ways out, but still in plain sight. She took off and caught up with him.
“Hey, Miss Liberty. Good Monday afternoon.”
“Yes, it is! Sorry you missed the wedding. It was really sweet.”
“No need being sorry. Someone had to watch the wagons. No telling what might walk off without a body out and about around camp.”
“True. Yesterday . . . when you came up, and I was staring into the fire . . .”
“Yes, ma'am?”
“Well . . . it seemed to me after you gave me a good once over, something troubled you. It's caused me to wonder ever since. Care to tell me what you were thinking on?”
He laughed. “And to think I thought you were lost to the moment. Didn't mean to be rude, ma'am; no offense meant. But you are one fine-looking lady, and my poor old eyes love nothing better than feasting on your beauty.”
At first, she smiled, then caught herself. “Maybe this Andrew Titus whose trading post we're all heading to on a stranger's word carries spectacles. Perhaps you're in need of a pair, sir.
“Yesterday, I feasted, too, on my son's beautiful young bride. Made me remember back to when I was young and in love like they are . . . Now I am old. Why, I hope to be a grandmother within the year!”
“Oh, Miss Liberty. You’re joshing me. I can see well enough, and you, ma'am are about perfect.”
“Well.” It appeared if she objected, he just spout more flattery. “I thank you for those kind words, but I'm far from perfect. There is one who is, and that's Jesus Christ. Did you pray as I requested?”
“Yes, ma'am, I did speak to the man upstairs. Don't rightly know if He was listening though.”
“Is that what was upsetting you yesterday? Thinking about your wife?”
“Yes, ma'am. Indeed, I was.”
“Care to talk about her?”
“No, ma'am. I don't at all, if it's all the same.”
“I understand, Corbin. And if I'm going to call you by your Christian name, then you best drop the miss and call me by mine.”
“Yes, ma'am. I'd like that, Liberty.”
It took the train the rest of that day and seven more to reach Fulton, Arkansas, on the banks of where the Red River and the Little River converged on their race to the Mississippi.
The two days of rain slowed travel dramatically with its swollen creeks and muddy roads. But there the clan camped, knocking on the door to the promised land.
Soothe my troubled soul, Lord.
A big sign claimed the town to be the “Gatew
ay to Texas,” but the men said the locals scoffed at it. The land on the other side remained in dispute. Many considered it more Arkansas than Texas.
Their debate really didn't matter to Liberty. Soon enough, she'd have to give Corbin an answer. Oh, it might delay the inevitable a day or two.
If not right across the river, the Republic couldn't be more than a few days west.
The man tickled her with his smooth words of flattery. Who didn't enjoy hearing they were beautiful or being called a treasure?
But had she really gotten to know the real man under that hat he loved taking off and putting back on in such a dramatic fashion? Had Corbin missed his calling? Maybe he would be better served on the stage. Or even better the pulpit.
Last couple of days when Izzy relieved her, while she walked beside him, he'd been hinting about her answer. Acting just like a kid who wanted an early peek at his birthday present.
That evening after supper, she stood and nodded to her rocker. “Corbin, if you'd be kind to drag my seat out a ways, I'd like a word.”
The man stood and slapped his hat against his leg. “Yes, ma'am. Glad to oblige.” He grabbed hers and his and hurried ahead of her to a spot fifty or so steps from the cook-fire. “This far enough?”
A quick check told her those at the fire paid no attention. Aaron and Rich chased the big girls, and Esther nursed Josie Jo. She glanced at the moon. Hindered by fast moving clouds, it didn't glow as bright as two evenings before, but enough to see his face.
“Yes. Thank you, Corbin.”
Turning his chair around, he grabbed its back with both hands then eased down. “You figure this is close enough to Texas to give me my answer?”
Was what she'd decided really the best thing?
“Well first, before I give you my answer, that bottle you sent with Izzy today?”
“Yes, ma'am. Figured you was out.”
“No, sir. Actually, I haven't cracked the seal on the last one. I meant to send it back but didn't want you to think me ungrateful. Of late, I've been able to get to sleep just fine.” She smiled. “Thereby avoiding any headaches come morning.”
“Well, I'm glad to hear that. Whiskey aside, Liberty. What's your pleasure?”
Having Reagan back would be her pleasure without any doubts. That's what she'd love the most, but it wasn't an option. She filled her lungs then blew out the big breath real slow, a passel of thoughts rode out the sigh.
If Reagan was watching down, she hoped he'd forgive her. It wasn't just her future, but Flynn's. He didn't need the responsibility of his mother and little sister just starting out with his own family.
It'd be a marriage of convenience. Mallory understood, and Laud would come around. Maybe it could work out, but if it didn't, she'd have a hundred sixty acres of her own to live on and do as she pleased.
Of course, Corbin would be her neighbor, but she didn't see why he couldn't remain a friend if being a husband didn't work out for her and Charity Grace. Her daughter and how she'd react was the main one who concerned her.
The arrangement would surely relieve Flynn whether he'd be willing to admit it or not. And he'd always be nearby with her grandsugars.
Might as well get to it.
“You know how I feel about owning another human being. I'll never be a part of that. So, you free Izzy. I want you to make it all legal, file whatever papers with whoever they need to be filed with, and I'll marry you the same day.”
Corbin stood then paced a bit. He twirled the chair around right then plopped down. “Her pap, Jasper, was given to me by my pap when I was only six. He was ten. We ran the creeks, fishing, trapping and having a great time.
He was my best friend. Closer than a brother, and Izzy . . . she's all I got left of him.” Would Jasper think Liberty was worth the bride price?
He eyed her hard, but she didn't look away like most would. She stared right back. He liked that about her, that and most everything else.
“Can I ask a very personal question?”
“Well now, ask away, and if I don't slap your face, then I might even answer.”
What a woman. And if she was a mind to, he'd just have to suffer the sting. “Uh, well . . . Can you . . . uh . . . Are you willing and or able to . . . uh . . . have a baby, ma'am?” Did that sound too bad?
“I believe you clearly stated that I'd have three years to get comfortable with you, then if our arrangement wasn't working out, that we could go our separate ways.”
“Yes, indeed. I did. But if I'm putting Izzy's freedom on the line, then . . . uh . . . well. It's that I've wanted a son from the start. Gabby . . . she's handy enough, but not much real help, not like a son would be. Plus, she'll be marrying soon enough I figure, or just as liable to run off.”
Why had he said that?
Was her not slapping him a good sign?
“Ah. Well, that's a new wrinkle. Yes, I am still able to bear children, but . . .” She looked away. “Well, if we come to an agreement, I'll tell you more. Wives shouldn't have secrets from their husbands, if it comes to that.”
Secrets? What could she possibly be talking about?
Or did she know his?
No, she'd never even consider marrying him if she did. Should he tell her?
How could that conversation go? Well Liberty, see, I'm a liar and got so drunk I let my no ’count nephew violate my baby girl and his man do the same with Izzy. No. He wouldn't go there. Not then, not ever.
She stood. “I couldn't promise you anything about a son, and not knowing how this plan will work itself out . . . or if our union would ever be consummated.” She stood. “I believe we both need to think everything over again.
“I understand setting Izzy free is a big issue for you, but I'd never—not for one minute—be your wife if you still own her. So that's what you have to decide.”
“And with no guarantees about a baby.”
“That's right. It's the best I can offer. Otherwise, you get your three hundred and twenty acres, and I'll go on my way. We can still be friends. Seve thinks we'll be at that trading post in four days. Let's talk again then.”
“Yes, ma'am. And Liberty, keep that extra bottle. The stuff's good for washing out cuts and scrapes; some folks cook with it, too.”
“All right, I will. You can let me know if you need it back at any time.” She nodded. “See you tomorrow. You might have Izzy come earlier. I enjoy walking with you, Corbin.”
“Yes, ma'am. I'll do that very thing.”
No one said a word when Flynn parked his wagon off from the others, but a few sly looks passed around now and again. Small price to pay for a bit of privacy.
Never in all his days could he have guessed how much he would love being married. He might have given in to his sweetheart way back in Tennessee.
The Good Book said two shall become one. He'd been working on that exact thing.
Alicia, lying on his shoulder, snuggled in tight like she couldn't get enough of him, but then fair was fair. She touched his chin. “Did you see Mam and Mister Harrell talking this evening?”
“Yes, been noticing them walking some together, too.”
“You have any idea what they've talking about?”
What a question. “No, do you?”
“Yes, but if I was to tell, you'd have to swear not to say anything to anyone.”
“Why's that?”
“Well, Ma swore me to secrecy. But she told me because she wanted me to pray for Mam. And, well, now that we're one, I think you should know.”
“Know what?”
“I just don’t want you to be upset, and I never want to have secrets between you and me. Still, if you were to say something, then Mam would know Ma broke her confidence and Ma would know I broke hers.”
He snickered. “Women. Fine. Tell me, and I'll not say anything.”
She rolled over and put her mouth close to his ear like someone could be listening. “Mister Harrell has proposed a marriage of convenience to get the extra land.”
> “What? And she's thinking about it? Why? Papa's not been dead any time at all.”
“Because of Izzy. Mam's making it a condition that he'd have to set her free.”
“Oh.” He shook his head against the pillow. “I can definitely see her doing something like that.”
She kissed his cheek then eased back to her place. “So, what do you think?”
“Not sure. Corbin seems nice enough, and I guess she seems to enjoy his company, but uh, I best sleep on it. I'm not sure how I see it.”
“Flynn, there's someone standing outside the back of the wagon. I can hear them breathing!”
“Who goes there?” He found the lantern and matches, and real quick struck up a light. “Who's there?” He pulled his pistol from its place and scooted toward the back of the wagon. “Who's there? Identify yourself.”
A brown muzzle slipped around the flap.
“Mercy, boy. What are you doing?” Flynn swallowed, easing his heart back into its place. He pushed on the mule's nose. “Get out of here.” The animal complied.
He crawled back to his side of the pallet, put the pistol in its holster, then settled down. He had the last watch, but that should be enough sleep, if his love and the mules would let him get there.
Mam and Corbin. What did he think about that?
Chapter Twenty-four
The next day, as Liberty had suggested, Corbin sent Izzy to relief-drive for her right after dinner, almost as soon as the clan got back on the trail. The young lady took the reins then shook her head.
“Master Harrell done told me what you be wanting him to do, Miss Liberty.” She shook her head again. “But, much as I want to be free, I say don't.”
“Don't?”
“Yes, ma'am. Don't do it.”
Liberty stared at the slave, searching her face for an answer, but none showed. “Why, Izzy? Why would you say that?”
