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

by Caryl McAdoo

  She shook her head again, that time with more purpose. “Best you ask my master.”

  “Don't call him that.”

  “It's what he is. And most likely what he or his will be until the day I'm planted six feet under.” The slave turned to her. “I prob'ly shouldn't uh said what I already did, Miss Liberty. Master Harrell be powerful upset if he'd knowed. Just don't do it.”

  Though she wanted to ask more, get the young lady to say why she'd tell her not to marry even though it meant her freedom, she decided it best to do as she said and ask Corbin. “I won't be too long.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  Liberty jumped down, careful of her skirts, and found the man with all the answers right where she expected. She wanted to choose her words carefully though. It wouldn't do for him to know the girl had told her not to marry him.

  “Why did you say something to Izzy? Upset her like that?”

  Hiking one shoulder, he stared at her. “Why not? What do you think? We in Texas yet?”

  “Don't change the subject. Why would she be upset over getting her freedom? I don't understand it.”

  “I told you she couldn't make it on her own, didn't I? Must be afraid. That's what must have upset her. Wouldn't you think?” He set his hat back on his head.

  “But . . . I'd spoken with her about being free before. She had dreams, Corbin, things she wanted to do. She didn't exhibit any fear at all when we talked about it.” She walked several steps in silence, replaying Izzy's words.

  Best you ask my master, she'd said.

  “It seems there's got to be something more to it. Is there something you haven't told me, something I should know?”

  “Why do you need to bother yourself with what Izzy says or thinks, Liberty? She's just a—”

  “Don't you dare say that!”

  “It's the truth.”

  “Not to my way of thinking, Corbin Harrell! Izzy is a wonderful, hardworking, young woman with a heart of gold! Now you tell me and tell me true. Is there something I should know before I would marry you?”

  More steps in silence passed while he obviously considered whether or not he'd tell her whatever it was. Silence that only confirmed harbored secrets.

  “What can I say? The gal's mighty fond of you. And . . . guess knowing the truth like she does . . . she don't want you to get hurt.”

  “Truth? What truth is that, Corbin?”

  For ten, twelve steps, he said nothing, but he'd already committed and had to tell her then. Probably only choosing his words carefully. He took his hat off, wiped his forehead with his free hand, then put it back on. “I'm a sinner, Liberty. And well . . . uh . . .”

  “What is it? Just spit it out. I'm full grown.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “Forget I ever said anything about us marrying.”

  “Oh my.” She hated how sad he sounded. “Corbin, have you been born again?”

  Almost as if she'd slapped him, he jerked sideways. “I told you I was baptized a long time ago.”

  “No, sir. That is not what I asked. Getting dunked is what comes after being born again to show others. Tell me about your conversion, when you accepted Christ's salvation and asked Him to live in your heart.”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets, looked heavenward, then shrugged. “Jasper, that's Izzy's pap, he'd go off to the brush arbor meetings, and one Sunday evening, I tagged along. He'd told me he was getting baptized. So, I did, too.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Ten or so, Jasper was mostly grown then. Fourteen, maybe, no more than fifteen.”

  Liberty scooted ahead then spun around, walking in front of the man. “You need to be born again. There's a reason you get baptized. Ask the Lord to forgive you of all your sins. Tell Him you believe that He's the Son of God. You believe that, don't you?”

  “Yes, ma'am. I suppose I do.”

  “And that He was born of a virgin? That He died on the cross and rose from the dead?”

  “You believe all that, Liberty?”

  “Yes, sir. Of course, I do. Read your Bible. It's all there.”

  “So what do you think?” He stared into her eyes for a bit then shook his head. “We in Texas or still Arkansas?”

  “What difference does it make if you don't want to marry me anymore?” She wanted to press him on his salvation, but that wasn't her job. She turned around and fell back in beside him. “I'm thinking we've crossed over. Into Texas. What about you?”

  “Me, too. And I never said I didn't want to marry you anymore. You got a Bible I could borrow?”

  “Yes, sir. I certainly do. Want me to fetch it now?”

  “Naw.” He chuckled. “Any time after supper will do. How about I build us a little fire off a ways and hang a lantern on a pole. Suppose you could read to me out of it?”

  “We can most assuredly do that.”

  Corbin's sins weighed heavy on his soul, but he couldn't ask the Lord to forgive him. If he did, then he'd have to confess them to Liberty—all of them—and he'd lose her for sure.

  According to the widow, that Saturday evening after supper before she read from the Good Book, the clan had been on the trail thirty-three days.

  That got them to the Titus Trading Post, where supposedly the man with all the answers resided. Only it had already closed for the evening.

  More than a month since the wagon train had pulled out of the Tennessee camp; yet it seemed like a whole other life away, and he told her as much.

  She must have been remembering Reagan though because she offered no answer, only a tear glistening at the corner of her eye in the lantern light. No doubt it seemed truth to her too, losing her husband and all.

  Like the past three nights, she finished her reading with what she called the Roman Road.

  A man name of Paul kept telling anyone who'd listen how to get himself right. He listened to her sweet voice, reading the scriptures, and from them, he knew what he needed to do. Except . . . Corbin couldn't stand the thought of losing Liberty.

  Later, standing the first watch, he looked heavenward. “Lord, please don't take this fine woman away from me.”

  Of course, no answer came. Did God really care about him? Did He really talk to people? Why would He? There in the darkness, he leaned against the nearest tree to her wagon.

  The little bit of glow from her lantern on her canvas warmed his heart. He wasn't spying, more like guarding over her. The job he'd love to have for the rest of his life.

  “Lord, what am I going to do? She knows something's troubling me, but if I tell what it is, I'll lose her for sure.”

  Maybe that was supposed to be his hell? Spending the rest of his earthly days then the hereafter too, without Liberty?

  “If You know everything, even my heart, like she says You do, then You know I thought I loved that tramp, but now . . . I know what the real thing is. You showed me.”

  He slumped down to the base of the tree. Her lantern snuffed out, just like his life would without her. There'd be no light. Tears filled his eyes.

  “I can’t help her husband died and made her a widow. But I’m here, and I’m alive. Did You put these feelings for her inside me?” He tried to blink the wetness away, but the tears kept falling, an ocean more.

  “Could you love me that much, like she says You do?”

  Sobs racked him.

  “Oh, Lord, I repent. I'm so sorry. Save my worthless soul. Strengthen me.”

  Liberty finished her prayers, lifting Corbin to the Lord. “Bless him, Father, bring him to repentance.”

  “Please, Lord.” A moan stopped her supplications. A wounded animal? Who was on watch? She strained her ear but didn't hear any footfalls. Had anyone else heard the sound?

  In the silence, she listened hard. There it was again, but that time, more of a sob. She counted on her fingers. If her deductions were correct, Corbin stood the watch.

  Could he be hurt?

  Wiggling into her dress over her nightgown, she found the matches and her l
antern, lit it, then climbed out the back of the wagon. His sobs led her directly to the tree where he sat, head resting on his knees, his arms covering his head.

  She eased down next to him. “Corbin. What's wrong? Are you hurt?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Please. Go away.”

  “Not until you tell me what's wrong.”

  Another sob escaped, then another, but he swallowed most of that one. “I'm a liar. Please. Just go away and forget about me.”

  “What did you lie about?”

  “My no-good wife.” He raised up and glared. “She didn't die at all. The tramp ran off with another man. Took up with a drummer and lit out. That's what Izzy knew. Now you know.”

  “Oh.” She sat down. “What about Izzy's pap? Did he really die?”

  “Of course, he did! With a fever. That's what give me the idea. But before . . . back when I was so heartsick . . . I stayed drunk for weeks, maybe a month. I don't rightly know. Then my brother and that sorry son of his come with more squeezings, and . . .” He wiped his tears. “I've been trying to figure out a way to accept Jesus without you finding out my sins.”

  “Oh, Corbin.”

  “Now you know. Best get on back to your wagon, ma'am. Heaven forbid someone should see us out here together.”

  “No. I'm not going anywhere. So now that I know, are you ready to accept the Lord?”

  “A few minutes ago, I told Him how sorry I was and asked Him to save me. This warmth came. Started at my head and flowed right down to fill my heart. It felt like . . . well, seemed like pure love, Miss Liberty.”

  “And that's what it is, pure everlasting Love—God’s love.”

  “But then, I knew I had to tell you about that Jezebel. The thought of losing any chance I ever had with you . . . It hurt my heart something terrible.”

  “Her name's Jezebel?”

  “No, but I decided a long time ago never to say it again. Forbid Gabby, too. The witch run out on her just as much as me.”

  “What woman runs away and leaves her child?” Liberty shook her head and sighed. “So, you're still a married man.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am.” He laughed. “She sent me divorce papers. Took ’em to the courthouse and made sure they were all legal. Guess I could be grateful for that. Never mentioned them to Gabby or Izzy. It shamed me so.”

  “Why would it?”

  “Me loving her so, thinking I did anyways. Her being the way she was. After the drummer, heard she took up with an old planter. That's why she wanted the divorce. Guess he had land.”

  “Are you really born again?”

  “Something happened. I'm different.”

  “Good.” She stood. “Corbin, I'm not sure how I see things now. I'd really like for Izzy to be free, and to tell the truth, I've been toying with the idea of us being married. And I mean really married. But well . . . let me think on things.”

  “Yes, ma'am. Sure.” He stood and extended his hand. “I understand, and if you can't bring yourself to say yes, then hopefully, we can stay friends.”

  She took his hand into both of hers. “Yes. No matter what. We'll be friends.”

  For too long, she held his hand, then decided she best get on back. Charity Grace was all alone.

  Sunday morn, Corbin woke, but instead of the ache behind his eyes—had he drank anything at all last night?—a lightness greeted him. He sat up on his pallet. No sound came from across the seed—sack wall, but neither of the girls snored.

  Careful not to make any noise, he slipped out the back. Let them sleep. He took care of business then carried a load of deadfall to the cook-fire.

  Miss Esther sat her rocker with a blanket draped over her shoulder, a baby-sized lump under it.

  “Good morning, Corbin.” She smiled.

  Dumping the armload of wood next to the fire, he stood straight and stretched his back. “Yes, ma'am, it sure is. It's a wonderful day.” He picked up the quilted pot holder, grabbed the coffee pot, and held it toward her.

  “Thank you, no. Josie Jo doesn't like it when I drink more than one cup.”

  He filled his own then nodded. How wonderful if she were Liberty, nursing his son. Could that ever happen after last night? He didn't suspect so. Wasn't sure why that thought no longer devastated him. She'd read something the other evening about a newness of life. Could that be what he'd woke to that morning? Why everything seemed so different?

  “Figure I'd go see if that Titus fella was around yet. We'll be having services later I suppose.”

  “Yes, sir. For sure.” She smiled. “I'll save you some breakfast if you don't make it back. Of late Aaron and Rich must have picked up tape worms.”

  Corbin chuckled. “Thank you kindly, ma'am.”

  The trading post proved easy enough to find, but the sign on the door announced he'd not open until two o'clock. He backed up and looked at the second story window.

  The curtains fluttered a bit in the breeze, but otherwise showed no evidence of life. No need anyway. After services and dinner would be soon enough.

  Walking back at a fast clip, he made it to camp before the little boys ate up all the leftovers. Those two were keepers for sure, especially Seve's son. While Corbin cleaned his plate, he day dreamed about a life with Liberty and their son.

  His and her son!

  A boy of his own.

  Who was he fooling? Even though she said she could still have babies, she'd hinted at some problem when she'd birthed Charity Grace.

  And speaking of the girl, what would she think? How would she take to him marrying her Mam? From what he'd witnessed, she'd been a papa's girl. Would have been spoiled silly except for Liberty and her strong hand.

  Leastways, that's how he'd seen it.

  Lord, why did you let Reagan get snakebit, if not to give me Liberty?

  Was he nothing more than a fool? Did God even work that way?

  “Esther said you went to the trading post this morning.”

  Setting his plate down, he smiled at the widow. Why was he thinking of her that way? “Yes, ma'am. Mister Titus has himself a sign on his door says he'll open at two.”

  Seve spoke up. “That so? Good. We'll mosey on over there about then, see if we can do some trading.”

  “Yes, sir. How much seed you thinking to let go of?”

  “If the price is right, all he wants, up to a hundred sacks. What about you? Got much to sell?”

  “Not really, ten sacks at the most.”

  Chores filled out most of the morning, then at Esther's request, Laud put water on for anyone that wanted a rag bath. After his girls took their turn, he carried himself a bucketful to the back of the wagon.

  A weeks’ worth of grime came off easy enough, but instead of putting on his regular change of clothes, he unloaded the three sacks of seed on top of his carpet bag.

  Right where he'd packed it, lay his suit and white shirt and under that, protected by a thin board, a certificate he needed, and under that a clean piece of paper.

  After a good brushing the corded cotton fabric looked better than new. His breath seemed to come a bit hard, and a rock in his gut rolled some, causing more than a little discomfort. But he knew what he had to do.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Corbin’s suit and white shirt got him a few sly looks from the men and snickers from the little boys, but none of that mattered. Liberty's smile was worth any amount of ribbing.

  Plus, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

  As on all the Sundays when the clan didn't have a church to attend, right after dinner, Seve started everything off with a prayer, then Liberty would read some from the Bible. Flynn, like his father before him, would lead the group singing hymns.

  Everything went along like what Corbin figured except after the last note of the last song faded away that day, he stood.

  First thing he did was set his hat atop his head then remembered the gathering was still church and took it right off.

  “Got something I need to say.” Hard words
to get out, but he couldn't hold them back. Jesus didn't hold nothing back, and he wouldn't either no matter the costs.

  Seve held his hand out. “Speak on then. The floor is yours.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded. “Well, last night I accepted the Lord Jesus as my Savior, and even though I got dunked as a kid, soon as we can find a preacher and some water, I aim to do it again. Do it right.”

  A hardy round of cheers and hoops followed, but he held his hands out to quieten the crowd. “I'm a drunk, and I lied. Need to confess my sin to you good folks, and if you put me and mine out, I'll understand.”

  “What did you lie about, Harrell? Seve's tone wasn't harsh but carried some steel.

  “My wife. She didn't die. Izzy's pap, he got the fever and went to his reward, but my no ’count wife ran off with a drummer.” He looked at his daughter. “Sorry I made you lie, too, baby girl, but well, it hurt my heart so bad that she didn't want us anymore.”

  “It's all right now.” Gabby's tears overflowed. “I know, Pap. She was a piece of work.”

  “Hurt and ashamed—not saying that's any excuse—I took to drinking and stayed drunk for too long. I slowed down enough to get our lint picked. Don't know if any of you have noticed or not, but I've been nipping and sipping all day most days. Get the bad shakes if I don't. Then last night, I didn't drink anything nor this morning.”

  Holding his hand out level, everyone could see it shook slightly. “That isn't nothing like usual, but anyways, I've decided to stop it altogether.”

  He pulled the folded piece of paper out of his coat pocket and handed it to Gabby. “That there's the divorce paper your ma sent me, girl. It shamed me so, I couldn't bring myself to tell you.”

  She unfolded it, but only glanced at it. “It was her, Pap. You were good to her. No shame in loving the wrong woman.”

  He blinked back tears and managed to keep from weeping. Took two hard swallows to find his voice again. “Well, that's all I got to say. I'll excuse myself now. Sure, you good folks need to talk about all this.”

  “No, Corbin. Please, you sit back down.” Liberty stood. “We've all sinned and fallen short of God's glory, just like Jesus told the mob that wanted to stone the woman caught in adultery, 'Whoever is without sin cast the first stone.'”