"Personally Josey , I think we should have never seceded from the Union. It did no good and caused a lot of deaths. Doing that was a big mistake, but one we can’t take back. Sam Houston was right. We were wrong in our treatment of him too. Wrong about a lot of things. After all he did for Texas. It's a shame. However, we can’t change that. This war is about many things. Hard to pinpoint what really started it. Hard to figure what might stop it."
"Slavery?" she asked her voice soft and husky.
"Slavery is a part of it, yes, and about what each side needs to exist. After all, not all Texans own slaves. The war isn’t just about slavery. Oh, they try to say it is, but that’s not the only cause. You see, honey, we don't speak the same language as the North for one thing. Just like your Yankee officer that sounded so arrogant. His very arrogance filled you with an anger. And you aren't the only one. We really don't speak the same language and never have. Southerns are not used to bad manners. At one time good manners was the measure of a good southerner. The Yankee have a different way about them. No beating around the bush so to speak. They think us a bunch of ignorant backwoodsmen. But the war, well…the North wants Texas for her cotton plantations, for her crops. Its big trading business up north, that we are not concerned with. That’s part of what I’m trying to defend. The North has great cotton resources, but they don’t grow cotton, so the need is even greater that we ship it to them. But they levy taxes and make it so the average farmer down here can't make a living with it. They want our supply. In addition, they are going to try to take it. The war is about the greed for control more than slavery. Without the cotton, their trading will stop and their economy will suffer greatly. Just like without slaves, our gathering and shipping would slow way down too. We need the manpower. What it boils down to is this, Josey; the South needs the slave labor to get the crops to market. And being slave labor it makes it affordable to do so. But the profits are eaten by the levies placed upon us when we ship. Without the slave labor we couldn't possibly get the cotton to market on time. That's fact. And the North needs our resources for trading. If the south paid the slaves to work for them, it would cost too much money, because too much man power is needed to do the work."
"You mean to tell me that men are dying for cotton? Is that what you’re telling me?" Josey’s heart raced in a strange fear that humanity had lost everything somewhere.
Leroy stared at her for a long moment.
"Leroy…that’s senseless. We ship cotton north anyway."
"We did, but not now, and to do so, we need the slaves to help us get it to market. As much as the North needs for all their trading, we can't handle unless we have the manpower to get it to market. Without slaves, it would be impossible to accomplish. I know this all probably sounds crazy honey, but in some ways it’s the truth for Texas." He kissed her hand tenderly, not seeming to realize what he had done, but his action did not go unnoticed, and he had the audacity to act as though it were nothing. But Leroy wasn't thinking of her hand, or his actions, so she tired to slow her heartbeat down. Tried to control her emotions.
"They want to take Texas over and use her supply of cotton and sugar in Louisiana, all the things we grow in God’s green Earth, they want. Just like the Mexicans, they wanted Texas for themselves. Only the Mexicans wanted the land. The North doesn't grow cotton. Can't. They only manufacture it and sell it. Texas on the other hand, signed with the Confederate states to protect the rights of slavery, as Texas slavery is heavily into the cotton business too. We aren't innocent. Now do you understand? As far as Texas is concerned, we have a need too, unfortunately we are both wrong."
"No…I’ll never understand why men kill each other. I don’t understand any war, Leroy. I guess I understand that Texas needs slaves to run the cotton plantations here. And I can see where the North would want those plantations for running the businesses and markets there. But what you are telling me is we believe in slavery, is that what you’re telling me?"
“To some extent…the entire south does. They have to if they want their crops to market. My mission is to defend the ports of entry into our state so they don’t get the cotton, nor free the slaves. Unfortunately, slaves are our manual labor force, I think Lincoln was right. It might have saved a war, if we had let them go or just paid them for their work. The rich plantation owners could afford it. But it would have put the poor farmer out of work, basically. Because now, the North is using the slaves as an excuse for this war. And the ignorant people believe that slavery is the only reason."
"Do you believe in slavery?" Josey asked, holding her breath for his answer.
"Josey…" He lifted her hand in the air and squeezed it as though the action was something he enjoyed. "It’s hard to say yes or no to that. Men like Jacob have a home because he knows the fields and can work them well. He’s invaluable to you, as all of them are. However, the slaves gather the cotton for the plantation owners. So yes, slavery is an important industry, vital actually to the South. Nevertheless, personally, no…I don’t and never will condone slavery. I believe we could hire them, pay them fair wages, and get the same amount of work or more done. But we are sworn to uphold the law of the land. Plainly put, slavery means manpower that the South needs. Take away the slaves; you take away the ability to get the cotton to market for anyone.”
"I don’t believe this. Then we’re wrong? Texas is wrong? I can’t see Texas being wrong, forgive me?"
Leroy bent his head, placing his forehead against hers. His nearness made her catch a breath.
"Yes, in some ways we are wrong…but both sides are wrong, Josey. That’s the way it is with war. When this is over, all of this will be mulled through, and someone will come up with better ways to do things." He kissed the top of her head and she almost swooned. She wanted to stay right here in his arms forever.
"Then why do you continue to fight?" She needed to concentrate on the conversation, not on what he was doing to her, but he kept doing little things that warmed her heart so she wanted to go into his arms and never let go.
"Because this is our land, and they want it. But we lost a lot of good men defending this state from the Mexicans. We paid the ultimate price for our freedom from Mexico. It was a dear price. Therefore, I fight for Texas…not slavery…not cotton…but Texas. Because I believe in her. This is my home, your home. We have to defend what's ours from invaders. And right now, the North is the invader."
"But that is such an evil circle," Josey wailed.
"I know…and I shouldn’t have said anything." He pulled her closer to him and held her there for a long time. She felt more content than she had ever been. To be in Leroy's arms was heaven.
"Texas is full of strong men who are willing to lay down their lives for it. The battle of the Alamo was a war that will be remembered long after we are gone. It speaks of the Texas spirit. I'm proud to be a Texan. And I also believe in America too, but war means being called to fight even when you know some things aren't right. You can't sit on a fence post an ignore something this big."
"I'll be so glad when it is over."
"Tell me about home," he whispered, his lips absently stroked her brow.
"Home?" She tried to still her racing heart. She was home, right here in his arms. Why couldn't he see it? Why couldn't he feel her racing heart?
She had to think about something else, he was driving her to complete distraction.
"Well, everything did well this year, but the corn nearly burned. Rose and Jacob got it picked just in time. Me and Mama canned most of the garden, we got a mess of black eyed peas, and okra and had lots of spinach and greens. Our peach trees looked good this year, and we’ve enough to have cobblers for quite some time. George took the cotton in after we all spent a week pickin’. The price was down so we didn’t make as much as we thought we might. I guess the North is to blame for that. Mama made me a dress to go to the dances in, but we won’t be havin’ any till the war is over, I’m sure. We sold some eggs when things got kinda poorly, and we sold all the hog
s not long ago. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Josey saw he had almost fallen asleep, and she didn't want to disturb him, but his arm was still protectively about her. She sat content to be with him.
"You look so tired." She absently ran a finger down his cheek and his eyes opened. Josey quickly jerked out of his arms.
"I guess I put you to sleep didn’t I?" She tried to laugh.
"Your sweet voice did. Now, tell me about you." he whispered, closing his eyes again.
"Me?" She couldn’t believe he wanted to know anything about her. Where could she begin? What did he want to know?
"I tried the dress on Mama made, it’s so pretty, but I doubt I’ll have anywhere to wear such a beautiful thing. Mama insisted I was growing up and needed a goin' out dress."
One eye popped open. "How many young men have come to call on you?" he asked with a teasing smile.
She shrugged. "No one’s come to call, except John Hendrix and his ma came one night out of the blue. Never did say what they wanted. I’d been pickin’ cotton all day and I was a mess."
"Did he ask to call upon you?"
"No, of course not. In fact, he spent most of the evening trying to get Rose’s attention. Rose was so bored that night, ‘cause Mama made us sit in the parlor and entertain them. Mrs. Hendrix kept sending silent messages to her son, but John, he didn’t talk much."
"Would you let him come calling on you?" Leroy asked, his eyes wide open now.
"I went to school with John most years, and he never once struck up an interesting conversation. He knows horses, I’ll give him that, but he’s so boring to talk to. He don’t talk politics or religion or even act as though he cares about anyone that isn't in his world. No, I wouldn’t let him call upon me." Josey said finally.
"What sort of man are you looking for, Josey?" He grinned.
"Well, it’s you that said I was lookin’, not me." She blew a tendril of hair from her face. However, the subject was fascinating since Josey had never even contemplated what she wanted in a man. She knew what she wanted, the man sat beside her now. But then she couldn’t exactly blurt that out.
"I want a man who will talk to me about anything, politics, religion, crops, anything. I want a man who can be satisfied with someone like me." she said lowly.
"Satisfied?" He turned her chin around to look into her eyes. "Why Josey, you are one of the prettiest, nicest, and most intelligent young women I know. Don’t ever sell yourself short. You have a lot to offer a man." he insisted.
She stared into his indigo eyes, drowning in them. "I do?"
"Well of course, haven’t we been discussin’ the war, and the cause of it? I don’t know many women that could hold a conversation like you. Now then…Where would you want to live?"
"Live?" She frowned at him. "I never much thought of that. I can’t imagine living anywhere but right there on my farm. Not that I wouldn’t like to visit and see places. I'd love to visit California, and go to an opry, or opera, and see the ocean, it must be lovely. But live…I guess I’ll never marry, ‘cause I’d want to live right here. And to most people that isn’t exciting."
"And this husband we are talking about…what would he have to look like?" he asked.
"Look like?" Josey stared into his eyes once more. "You ask some strange questions. I don’t know. I guess every girl wants a handsome man, but I do know that much. All girls consider differently when picking out a man for themselves. To me…it isn't so much looks, except I wouldn’t want him to be bald or red headed."
He laughed. "I guess that excludes Hank then." He stared into her eyes again.
She sighed. "Hank’s nice. He is a hard worker and that’s important. And…I kinda think he’s a one woman kind of guy, which makes him attractive to most women. But he's not for me."
"So it isn’t looks so much as what kind of man they are?" he teased.
"Well, it’s what’s inside you that counts the most. A big heart, a good worker and provider, a faithful type, and throw a little bit of looks in there and you have a right nice fella." She said breathlessly.
"You don’t like them bald, you don’t like red heads, and so exactly what do you like?"
She squirmed a little now. "I-I like dark hair on a man…and the kind of eyes that when he looks at me, he sorta melts, and he would need to be tall, to make up for me, ‘cause I’m not exactly tall."
"I’d almost fit that description, then wouldn’t I?"
Her breathing grew rapid. "Well, of course you would. But you’re too old."
Why had she blurted that out? Perhaps because he was too close to guessing the truth from her. But oh, she’d give anything to take it back, because it was as though she threw a gauntlet down.
"Am I now?" He stared intently into her eyes. "Too old or too experienced or both?"
"Oh for goodness sake…" she began, only to have her lips swept against his in a kiss that spoke so much and made her head spin. She closed her eyes and lost herself for the moment.
Josey was way in over her head, she was so swept away by his actions. She could barely do anything but swoon, as she opened her eyes and he smiled at her actions.
"So am I too old or too experienced?"
"Both." She nearly choked on her words. The man's kiss had completely taken her by surprise, but despite it all, her lips had moved beneath his in a slow sinuous kiss that burned into her memory.
His grin grew wider. "Perhaps you’re right, but I’d say from the way you kissed me back you’re catching up fast."
She could scarcely breathe. "Why’d you do that?"
"To show you exactly how remarkable you are. And to teach you that the next young man that tries that should get a face slap. So why didn’t you slap mine?"
The intimacy that question caused made her blush.
She crimsoned. "I didn’t want to."
"You’re so irresistible when you blush like that. And I’m glad you didn’t slap me."
"You are…" her voice filled with the wonder of the moment.
"Because I enjoyed every minute of that kiss…now I should attend to a few things…" He got up and turned to leave.
As he walked away, she let out a breath. "I enjoyed it too." But he didn’t seem to hear her.
Was he avoiding her? Why? He's the one that kissed her, for heaven's sake!
"I’ve got to go make a report. You are free to run about the camp. There’s some rabbit stew I think, and I’ll be back soon."
His avoiding her made her stiffen her back and reinforced her determination not to ever entice him again.
"Thank you," she said as he was leaving.
He peered over his shoulder at her. "For what?"
"Back there…in the barn" she whispered.
He looked her up and down now, as though distance made it safe, and smiled, that same flicker of awareness in his eyes. "I’ll be back."
Chapter Eight
Josey introduced herself to several of the men, and drifted closer to the rabbit stew. Several stopped her to ask if she knew their kin, and some she did know. The cook smiled and dished her up a plate. He was an older man and seemed tickled to have her there. He lived south of their farm and she thought she recognized him. "Aren’t you Deke Tanner?"
"Yes ‘um. Do I know you?" he asked, his gray eyes scanning her with interest.
"My ma I reckon, Mrs. Anderson…"
"You’re Josey, the young one. Well I’ll be. Hey, you ain’t seen my wife have you?"
"As a matter of fact, I have. A couple weeks back at church." She smiled.
"Her and the kids okay, then?"
"As far as we know…yes," Josey reassured him.
His smile spread over his face like a soft breeze refreshes, removing the fine lines of worry. "We got six kids, she’s got her hands full, I reckon."
"Six," she repeated.
"If you see her again…tell her…tell her…well…just tell her I love her. I miss her and the kids, and that I’m okay." He finally said a tear rolling unhi
ndered down his cheek.
She touched his arm. "I’ll tell her."
The fact that these men were so homesick made Josey feel bad. She wished there was a way to comfort them. To tell each of them that she would speak to their families. Some of them were so young, she wondered why they were here.
All these men left their families. Some she was sure missed their ma’s and some probably had sweethearts. Others had wives and children. Would they ever see them again?
She had to assume they would, to think otherwise was unpatriotic. Most of them looked weary, as though they had fought many battles. Their clothes were tattered, their shoes were even worse. Some were injured, but not many. She wished she could help in so many ways. A tear ran down her cheek when she thought of their loneliness.
She was glad she could make things easier for Mr. Tanner. She thanked him and took the food back to the tree trunk. She preferred to stay out of the way, because most of them had duties to perform and she didn’t want to interfere.
She sat down once more and ate the stew, which was quite tasty even though they didn’t have fresh vegetables. Drinking from a tin cup, she helped herself to the water at the creek.
She was washing a cup when Leroy returned.
"Did you have something to eat?" he asked his voice raspy as she turned toward him.
He was staring at her now the way he often did, and she blushed. "Yes, the stew was delicious. You and your men eat well."
"Some times. We’re in familiar territory and know where to hunt, but it isn’t usually half this good. Except when we stop off at a farm or something. And we have a good cook. Corporal Tanner can make some right tasty meals out of pert near anything. But this war has caused many shortages that we shore would like to indulge in." He managed a tight smile.
She put the cup and plate down and looked up at him as she sat against the tree trunk once more, her heart heavy with unsaid things. She thought about the kiss and couldn’t get the courage to say anything about it, but she would remember it forever. "Did you eat?"
Always Remember Page 9
