Mae: Book Six: The Cattleman's Daughters

by Danni Roan

  “It’s definitely red,” Cathleen spoke. “Who would have believed that Chen Lou would have kept that thing all these years?”

  “He’s a sentimental old man,” Rachel’s voice made them turn to where she stepped through the door.

  “I’m glad he is,” Mae said. “I can’t believe this was made for my grandmother.” She twirled, looking at the long, red skirt as it flared around her. Over the skirt she wore a top that was of red silk embossed with gold threads and fitted like a long jacket to below her hips. The rounded tails molded her form, yet remained modest.

  “I’ve never seen the like,” Cathleen said. “Who would imagine that a wedding dress would only have those little sleeves?” She smiled. “You know I had to help Chen Lou with the skirt. It wasn’t long enough.”

  Mae looked down at the red flowing fabric that made up the skirt. “I wouldn’t have cared if it were too short,” she stated. “I would proudly wear it anyway.”

  Together the three women laughed.

  A gentle tapping at the door brought them all up short.

  “I guess it’s time,” Mae smiled.

  As Rachel and Cathleen left the room, her grandfather Isadoro came in. “Now isn’t that a sight,” he said, tilting his head and looking at her outfit.

  A moment later Chen Lou stepped through the door. He wore a black silk robe, that ended at the thighs, with baggy black silk pants. In contrast, the long white braid down his back shimmered like silver under a small black cap.

  “You beautiful.” The wizened old man twinkled at his great granddaughter, opening his arms for her embrace. “You make an old man happy.”

  “Don’t you cry, Ye-ye,” Mae yelped, “This is no day for tears.”

  The old man nodded and offered her his arm.

  Isadoro walked with Mae and her Ye-ye to the yard at the back of the house, then handed her over to Chen Lou. At an angle away from the house, sat two sets of benches, creating a makeshift path for the bride to walk down.

  On the benches sat her family. They were beautiful. Different and unique - whether related by blood or not, they all belonged. She could see Eric sitting quietly in one row with his mother and father. He was holding his little sister as she danced on his knees.

  Will wrapped his arm around Katie, pulling her close with one arm while bouncing Katie on his leg.

  Clayton Allen, the black-haired cracker cowboy from Florida, snuggled Meg close, whispering something in her ear that made her gasp and elbow him in the ribs.

  “Ready, Mae-Mae?” Chen Lou asked.

  “Just one more minute,” Mae said softly as they stood looking down the lawn.

  Alexis and Bella sat side-by-side on another bench, Taylor’s sandy head tipped to listen to what her sister was saying.

  Mae smiled as on the other side of Alexis, Reg ran a hand through his bright red hair.

  Billy, his white whiskers clipped neatly around his wattle chin, rested a hand on Dora’s hip. Mae nearly giggled when the old woman lifted the offending hand to her waist.

  Isadoro slipped in next to Nona, handing her a dry handkerchief in preparation for the ceremony.

  Even Deeks and Rachel sat arm in arm on the back row.

  “I have the most amazing family, don’t I?” Mae asked.

  “Yes,” Chen Lou answered, squeezing her arm.

  “Everything’s going to change, isn’t it Ye-ye?”

  “Nothing stays the same,” the old man said, “new is good.”

  Taking a deep breath, Mae stepped out onto the path and lifted her eyes to where Reese stood, looking nervous in front of the preacher. Behind him Stephens stood, hip cocked and relaxed, but alert.

  Reese began to breathe again. He had seen Mae walk out into the yard with her grandfather, but then stop. She was breathtaking in a strange red silken dress, the whole outfit blazing like the vibrancy of her soul.

  When she’d stopped, he thought he’d pass out. Was she having second thoughts?

  Mae’s bright smile warmed his heart and he smiled back as she made her way toward where he stood under the dark leaves of the cottonwood.

  Gently Chen Lou took his hand and lifted it while he did the same to Mae’s with his other hand. Bowing, he joined their hands together, and backed away.

  Reese melted into Mae’s dark eyes but tried to listen to the preacher’s words. In the distance, a dog barked.

  “From this day forth, for better or for worse…” the preacher was saying.

  “Stop right now!” A shrill voice cut through the beauty of the summer day. “They cannot be wed!” Jemma Johnson stepped into the clearing, shattering the beauty of the moment like a hammer’s blow.

  “Jemma,” Joshua James growled, as the pale, older woman marched toward the couple.

  “There are laws against this sort of thing,” Jemma’s icy tones rang with authority, “and that ungrateful whelp you call a daughter will not have her happily ever after by leaving me to rot.” Her voice was a harpy’s squall. “Where’s the sheriff, a man in town told me he was here?” Jemma turned, looking about.

  “Ma’am.” The sheriff rose from a seat at the back.

  “You need to stop this,” Jemma called, jabbing a finger in the direction of Mae and Reese. “That, that, girl took everything from me. Everything!” she screamed, then laughed hysterically.

  “You said them youngin’s can’t get hitched a minute ago,” the sheriff spoke. “How’s come?”

  “Just look at her!” Jemma replied haughtily. “Can’t you see who she is, what she is?”

  The sheriff turned to look at Mae, now clasped protectively in Reese Middleton’s arms, then turning back to the old woman who was making such a scene, he scratched his head.

  “’Fraid I don’t quite follow,” the man with the big mustache and shiny badge said, still looking at her.

  Jemma’s face went bright red as her eyes blazed. “She is of mixed race,” she stated, smirking at the man.

  “Why you old…” A voice broke from the back of the congregation as Winny Blakely stood to her full height, which was not in the least intimidating, so she climbed up on the bench, only to be pulled back down by her big-bearded husband.

  “Hush, wife,” Brion Blakely said, patting her on the shoulder and trying to get the fiery Indian woman to be still.

  From around the front of the house a stately man, dressed in a dusty suit and tie, strode toward the assembled wedding party.

  “Ma’am?” The sheriff was talking again, “Are you saying that you want me to stop this wedding because Mae Lynn is part Chinese?” he asked.

  “Yes, now do your duty!” she yelled with a jerk of her head.

  All eyes turned to the sheriff. “I can’t do that, Ma’am,” he began.

  “What, what do you mean? You are an officer of the law, you must.”

  “That’s just it, Ma’am,” he ran a hand over his bushy mustache. “Ain’t no laws bein’ broke here.”

  Jemma Johnson reeled. “That’s not possible. I know for a fact that there are laws that forbid marriage between mixed races.” She looked around her but was met with stony glares.

  Behind her, Mr. Carver took up a protective stance.

  “I’m afraid you’re wrong again, Jerusalem,” Joshua said. He’d pushed himself to his feet and now stood leaning on his cane. “Wyoming has no such laws.” He stated flatly, his eyes hard and cold as an arctic winter.

  “No, no!” Jemma screamed, looking around. “It can’t be.”

  “It’s over,” a stately voice suddenly filled the clearing, making everyone jump.

  “Carver, make them stop.” Jemma ran to her butler. “She’s ruined everything, everything.”

  “No.” The man’s word was flat and hit the crowd like a boulder dropped into a pool.

  “What did you say?” Jemma’s eyes were huge with shock.

  “I said no.”

  “You will do as I say.” She glared at him.

  “Jemma, shut up,” the man said. “You no longer
employ me; therefore you can no longer tell me what to do.”

  “But Carver, she…”

  “She did nothing,” the man said, straightening his suit. “You did this to yourself. You mortgaged everything you owned to keep up the pretense of wealth, and then tried to sell off the debt by making Mae marry that horrid Mr. Wilms.”

  “But...” the old woman stammered. “I’ve lost everything and it’s all her doing,” she wailed.

  “Mae didn’t do this to you. No one did. That’s why…” he looked at Reese, offering a slight nod.

  “You!” Jemma said, “It was you, you sent that note to him.” Jemma pointed at the groom.

  “Yes.” Carver replied.

  “But why?”

  “Jemma,” the older man began, “I was there that first day at your new home. The day Mr. Johnson brought home his beautiful, blushing bride.” His dark eyes bore into hers. “You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen and you belonged to him.” He twisted his mouth in a grimace.

  “I watched for years as that man gave you everything you ever wanted, and I saw how little by little that girl-full of wonder- disappeared, shrunk, and hid away as her husband’s philandering and disregard slowly killed her.”

  “Carver, what are you saying?” Jemma gasped.

  “I’m saying, Jerusalem James-Johnson, that you married for money and you got what you wanted, only to find that you still wanted love as well. I’m saying that I watched you change from the wide-eyed beauty to someone completely consumed with things as you tried to fill that hole that was once your heart.”

  Jemma began to shake, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.

  “Now come away from here and leave these two in peace. They’ve made a better choice than you.” Carver’s voice was hard.

  “But what will I do? I have nothing left. No home, no family, no money.” She began to weep, standing alone on the grass.

  George Carver stepped up and took her by the arm. “You’ll come with me,” he said, his words no longer accusatory, but soft. “I have a little house and enough for us to live on comfortably.” His dark eyes were sad as he looked down into her face.

  “You may have forgotten that girl from all those years ago,” he continued, “but I remember her. I see her every day, just waiting to get out.”

  Jemma Johnson collapsed into the stern-looking man’s arms and slowly he took her away.

  Mae watched dumb-founded as her aunt was led away by Mr. Carver, then smiled as she saw her Aunt Rachel rise to her feet and follow them.

  “Well, what are we waitin’ for?” the sheriff asked, looking around him. “I thought I come all the way out here for a weddin’.” He slapped his knee, and sat back down.

  “Get to the kissin’ part,” Billy called, ducking as Dora smacked him affectionately.

  The skinny preacher blinked, shaking his head. “Seem’s like none of you James girls can ever do things the easy way,” he grumbled. “Now where were we? Oh yes.”

  “I now pronounce you man and wife; you may kiss the bride.”

  Reese didn’t take any chances, grabbing his new bride and kissing her before anyone could protest.

  As midnight fell, the Broken J was still awake and a dower crew sat around the long table on the back porch, the soft light of the oil lamps doing nothing to brighten the mood.

  Reese and Mae had retired hours ago. The crew of the Broken J had all laughed when, as the last reds and golds of the setting sun gilded the sky, the bridegroom had scooped his prize into his arms and headed for the house.

  “I have a dream to tell you about,” the young man was heard to say as they disappeared up the back stairs to their room.

  Now, however, the joy of the happy couple had receded and only the hard glares of a tightly knit family crackled along the table as Joshua looked at his sister. His eyes were hard and cold as anger boiled inside of him.

  “It was her!” Cathleen gasped, dark eyes going wide. She spoke again, but more quietly. “It was her, wasn’t Ben? All those years ago.” she said, laying her hand possessively on her husband’s arm, glaring at the older woman.

  “Ssh, darlin,’” Benji said. “All’s well that ends well.” Gently he leaned over and kissed her plump cheek.

  “Jemma,” Joshua spoke, anger slurring his words. “I honestly thought I was doing the right thing sending Mae to you.” His eyes took on a sad look. “I can only thank heaven above for protecting her from you.”

  “Josh,” the woman tried but was silenced by his uplifted hand.

  “You’re my sister,” he started again, “and I’ll not turn you out, but I think you should leave as soon as is possible.” He looked to the man seated next to the pale image of his sister.

  “Could we have a day or two to rest?” the man called Carver asked. “I’m not as young as I once was.”

  Eyes, dark and light, turned to him and tried to understand, but they were cold and unwelcoming.

  “That’s up to you, Mr. Carver,” Joshua said, “though I don’t think you’ll find being here very comfortable.”

  “Mr. James, I thank you for your hospitality and I promise that we will not intrude.”

  “I…” Jemma tried to speak, but was cut off by her former butler.

  “Under the circumstances, I think it is best that way.”

  Joshua nodded.

  “You really gonna’ marry that harpy?” Billy spoke up, his bushy eyebrows raised in wonder.

  “Yes Mr. Billy, I am,” Carver said. “I’ve known Jemma for a long time and as shocking as it may seem, I’ve loved her for all of it.”

  Jemma gasped, but shrunk away again as hostile eyes turned toward her.

  “Ain’t no accountin’ for taste,” the old chuck wagon cook said. “Of course the preacher’s right upstairs if ya wanna get it over with quick like.”

  The next morning Jemma Johnson crept down the stairs behind Carver and out onto the front porch. She was trapped and she knew it. Together they stood before the preacher in the open air and recited their vows as a new day was born.

  The kitchen was busy when they entered as Nona and the others carried breakfast out to the waiting crew.

  Not wanting to be the object of the family’s wrath, Jemma walked to the small table by the window and sat down. “Coffee please, Carver,” she called quietly.

  “Get your own coffee,” the man called as he fixed a plate. “I’m not your butler anymore and you might as well get used to the fact sooner rather than later.” He laughed, lifting two plates. “And my name is George, I suggest you use it.”

  Joshua James tamped down his anger at his sister as he heard the exchange through the open window above the sink. Perhaps Mr. Carver would be good for her. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and lifted a silent prayer for his sibling. It was offered grudgingly, but it was offered.

  Epilogue

  “Nona,” Mae’s voice echoed down the hallway. “I need you to watch Mattie and Melinda,” she continued as she guided the rambunctious two-year-olds into the kitchen.

  “Where are you off to?” Nona asked, peeling her last apple and slicing it into a pan.

  “Reese has been gone all night. He got a call from one of the farms out toward Red Butte.”

  “And you think he needs your help?” Nona asked, smiling down at the twins, who were trying to see what she was making.

  “You know how he is, he doesn’t know when to quit. Besides, I help.”

  Mae bustled over to her grandmother and kissed her on the cheek. “Go on then, these two will be just fine.”

  “Be good for Nona,” Mae said, squatting down and hugging her children tight. “Make her tell you the story about the knight that rode a white rabbit,” she said with a wink, making the dark-haired little girl giggle.

  “Oh, look who’s come for a visit,” Meg swished into the kitchen. “Do you have a hug for Aunt Meg, too?” The children raced to their aunt, their pudgy arms open wide, laughing as she grabbed one in each arm and lifted them high.


  “What will Reese say about you chasing off to Red Butte after him?” Meg asked with a wicked grin.

  “The usual,” Mae said a devilish gleam in her eye. “What are you doing all the way out here by yourself?” She lowered her voice in a parody of her husband.

  Meg’s smile was bright. “Our men do take some training don’t they?” She snuggled the twins before plopping them at the table.

  “Like when Reese told me I couldn’t go riding,” Mae quipped.

  “Well, in his defense, you were eight months pregnant with twins at the time,” Meg replied. “What did you say to convince him, anyway?”

  Mae tapped her chin with her index finger, thinking. She’d been in the barn and to be honest, she’d been forced to let Walt saddle her horse.

  “Mae are you sure about riding today?” Walters had asked, eyeing her protruding stomach. “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but you ain’t very big to be carrying so much like.”

  “I’ll be fine, Uncle Walt,” Mae had said brightly. “I’ve been riding almost every day and I’m as fit as a fiddle.”

  The old wrangler had rubbed a hand over his bald head before plopping his hat back on it. “Does Reese know?”

  “Does Reese know what?” The very man walked into the barn, taking in the scene. “Oh, does he know that.” He indicated Mae standing next to the horse.

  “Are you coming with me?” Mae asked, looking innocent.

  “No, because you’re not going.”

  “Why?” Mae asked.

  “Why?” Reese almost shouted. “Why? Look at you; you can’t ride in your condition.”

  “I don’t see why not! It’s not like I’ve never done it before.”

  “Mae, what if something happens? What if you fall, or your horse is injured or…?”

  “That’s why you’re coming with me.” She’d smiled sweetly and placed a foot in the stirrup, but couldn’t pull herself up.

  “Give me a leg up, Uncle Walt.” she called, but the other man had wisely vacated the barn.

  Reese smirked. “You can’t even mount on your own anymore,” he said, satisfied that he’d won.

  “That’s not what you said last night,” Mae said, raising a jet-black brow.