"It's about forgiveness," She locked gazes with Jackson. "And trust. I want to know I can forgive him and not harbor any ill will toward him for the past. We deserve to be completely happy. All of us."
"I agree," Jackson replied. "Well looks like we'll have us a school house on the property. A wedding next month too."
"What?" the other couple asked in unison.
"Jackson and I are getting married at the church in town." Adeline told them her joy so immense her chest ached.
Jackson's blue eyes sparkled as Heath slapped him on the shoulder and congratulated them. Jessie hugged Adeline.
"What did we miss?" A very pregnant Peggy Ann tottered in carrying a gift, followed by an apologetic looking Lucas. "Sorry y'all I couldn't stop her, she insisted on bringing this over to you tonight."
Adeline jumped up and guided Peggy Ann to a chair. "You need to stay home all the jostling cannot be good for the child."
Her friend waved her away. "I'm healthy as an ox, almost as big as one too." Her large brown eyes danced playfully. "I couldn't stand another day cooped up. And neither of you have come over in days." She pouted at Adeline and Jessica.
"It's only been two days," Adeline fussed over her, serving a slice of cake and delighting in Peggy Ann's wide smile.
"What's in the package?" Jackson asked holding up the bundle that had somehow ended up on his lap.
Adeline and Peggy Ann exchanged a smug look and then both glanced at Jessie who giggled.
"Open it." Adeline came to stand next to Jackson
He opened the package in which an embroidered tapestry was wrapped.
The picture depicted a large oak, under it's wide branches stood three women a red head, a blonde and a brunette and each held a baby in her arms.
Jackson's mouth fell open and then a wide smile followed by a loud whoop as he stood up and grabbed Adeline around the waist swinging her around.
Heath watched the exchange and cocked his head looking at the embroidery. "Who made it?"
"Each of us," Jessica replied. "We haven't decided where to hang it yet."
"Is it supposed to be us?" Heath pointed at the blonde couple. "Why is she holding a baby?"
Jessie blushed and smiled at her new husband. "Why do you think?"
When Heath fell to the floor chair and all. Everyone, except Peggy Ann who couldn't stand as fast, rushed to him.
"Oh God I didn't expect him to pass out." Jessie cried. "What is wrong with him?"
Jackson laughed. "I don't think he was prepared for it to happen so soon."
"Baby?" Heath mumbled and opened his eyes slowly taking them all in. "What happened?"
"You're going to be a daddy," Jessie replied kissing his face.
"Oh," he answered and then scrambled to his feet. "Well hell." Although still pale, his wide smile radiated to his wife. "Well I'll be darned." Heath leaned forward and placed a slow kiss on a blushing Jessie's mouth.
Congratulations began, everyone talking at once.
When he reached for her Adeline allowed Jackson to lead her out to the porch. They stood for a while their arms around each other basking in their happiness, the light from the window gave an intimate glow to the outdoor space.
"I suspected you were expecting," Jackson told her and pulled her face up to kiss her. "But I figured you wanted to be sure before telling me."
"I am so happy." Adeline told him wiping an errant tear.
The soft hum of the indoor conversation reached them.
"It's truly a home now isn't it?" Jackson told her looking toward the interior of their house.
"Yes it is. God has blessed us with a good life." Adeline replied.
He took her in his arms and held her tight.
"Yes He has."
"And I finally found it."
"What did you find love?"
"Joy."
The End.
Westbound Awakening
Mae Hawkins and Captain John McClain’s Story
Widow's Peak, Virginia
Panic-filled eyes met his. The outlaw's hand trembled more from fear than from hatred. It was crystal clear the man was not about to wait to hear the reason for the cavalry captain's presence. The boom of a gunshot echoed in John's ears, the bullet penetrated his right leg, and before he could turn away, a second shot sent him to the ground.
Captain John McClain shook his head to dislodge the thoughts of that fateful night two weeks earlier. The all-too-familiar throbbing pulsed down his leg, and he rubbed a palm over his thigh, his fingers skimming over the bandaged area under the thick dungarees he wore. Although the wince that surfaced couldn't be helped, John disregarded the pain. In the corner where he sat, his back was protected, and it was easy to keep a vigil on all the exits and on his men. Every one of the eight tables in the room was surrounded by patrons while vibrantly-dressed girls circled the space, beacons of promise much like the day's first rays of sunshine assuring a fresh start.
The expansive bar along the back of the room, manned by a huge man named James, held whiskey bottles of many types that sparkled, reflecting the lights. Several men leaned elbows on the highly-polished counter, drinks in hand.
One of McClain's young soldiers caught his attention. The boy climbed up the brothel's stairs, hand in hand with one of the establishment's girls. The soldier must have sensed his captain's gaze, because hesitant eyes looked over toward him, a wide grin in place. John nodded, and it was the only encouragement the young man needed before he raced up the stairs pulling his prize behind him.
It was a lively night at the brothel, or perhaps a normal night for all John knew, as he'd only been there twice during the evenings. He'd been there plenty of times over the years in the late morning or early afternoon when one of his men failed to show up for duty. The place looked so different at night, the gas lamps providing a complementary atmosphere to the darkened interior.
Although windows were open, the meager breeze offered little respite to the heated interior. Pain and lack of visual focus brought him back to his own situation. He blinked in an attempt to will away dizziness caused by the combination of voices, piano music, and cigar smoke. Even a deep drink of cool beer did not help.
In hindsight, he should have listened to the camp's doctor and taken better care of his wound in the beginning. The physician had insisted he take time off to allow his leg to heal fully and even ordered him to bed rest for a week. Headstrong, John did not take even one full day. Instead he dragged himself from the bed and kept up with his men, riding long days in the heat, pushing away the pain and nausea. The way he saw it, since he'd been shot while off duty, it was his mistake, and his men shouldn't have to pay for it by pulling extra shifts.
When a new jolt of pain trailed up his leg from calf to thigh, John considered that perhaps he should visit the doc again. Although he'd cleaned his wounds himself daily to avoid infection, it could be that he'd not been thorough enough. Something was definitely wrong.
In less than a month, he would no longer be a member of the Confederate cavalry. The majority of the men had already left, most either going back to their prior lives or moving to join the established cavalry units in the West that were being raised to keep peace with the Indians. In a few days time, he'd be headed west for a different reason.
To find the bastard who'd shot him. This was definitely not the time for John, who was generally of good health, to be feverish, dizzy, and lacking of energy.
The perfume of honeysuckle freshened the surrounding air, and he inhaled the calming scent.
"Why, Captain McClain, it's nice of you to join us tonight. To what do I owe the rare honor of your presence?" Mae Hawkins' husky voice fell over him like a much-needed cool breeze. He looked up to meet the young madam's bright green eyes and lost his ability to speak.
A more beautiful woman did not exist -- he would bet his life on it. The woman was like a goddess who deemed to walk amongst mere mortals. The blonde brothel owner cocked an eyebrow at his lack of response.
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"Good evening, Mae. You look well rested." He almost smiled at the slight frown, her perfectly-shaped eyebrows lowering; she was probably used to more elaborate flattery from men. He continued unabated, "I am here to keep an eye on my men. Last time I allowed them to visit your establishment without supervision, I had to fetch them all the next day."
Shoulders back, she fanned her face and eyed him from beneath long lashes, her comely mouth pursed. With hair up in a complicated manner that allowed for some of the long blonde curls to escape and touch her shoulders, she was captivating. Enticing.
"Yes, I remember." Mae lowered herself to the chair across from him and allowed her gaze to sweep over the room, always vigilant.
He followed her line of sight to two of his men engrossed with a curvy brunette who threw her head back in laughter, seeming to enjoy the game of baiting them against each other.
Not able to tear his gaze from Mae for long, he studied her again, admiring the graceful curve of her neck, the soft jawline, and the slight pout of pink lips.
She turned back and smiled, her eyes connecting with his. "They're good boys, most of them. Some nights they just drink too much and can't make it out the door, much less mount their horses. I won't stand for them to leave in that condition. It's dangerous out there if they get lost. I'd rather their stern commander come for them than find out they've met with harm."
Stern? John didn't reply. Instead he took another drink from his now-warming beer and gave her a noncommittal shrug. Feigning disinterest, he studied her attire; although the deep green dress was off her shoulders, very little of her cleavage was exposed. Unlike the other women in the brothel, he'd never seen her wear anything indecent. The few times he'd spotted her out in town, she always dressed within the bounds of modesty. Even so, she commanded attention, a beautiful woman without ties living without many of the restraints of society.
Her kohl-lined eyes slid toward the back hallway, and he wondered if she took customers. Perhaps as the madam, she didn't have to work any longer, unless she chose to. Or then again, she could have private lovers. Hell, her beauty alone brought men to their knees, so she did not have to entice them with scant dressing. It shouldn't affect him in the least, but just the thought of her bedding men made his stomach clench.
He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable under her returned scrutiny.
Finally her cool eyes shifted away before taking him in again. "Enjoy your night, John." Her lips curved at his scowl. She always enjoyed his discomfort at her using his given name. Mae waved at the beefy bartender. "James, serve Captain McClain another one on the house."
Each movement graceful, Mae rose and went toward the back hallway. Seeming to glide across the floor, the sway of her hips beckoned the attention of every man in the saloon to follow her movements.
When an older man with a cigar hanging precariously from his lips reached to touch her bottom, she slapped it away without turning to look, which caused the other men at his table to burst into laughter.
"Come on, Mae, have some pity on my poor soul," the man cried after her. She spun and gifted him with a smile, at which he clutched at his chest in a comical response. Mae Hawkins commanded the brothel with a gentle ease that belied a firm hold.
Sweating, John tugged at the collar of his shirt. The fever was not fading; if anything, he felt warmer now. No denying it any longer. He would go directly to see the camp doc upon his return.
A woman, Lucinda, if he remembered correctly, sat at the piano and began to sing a melancholy tune that drifted over the room like a cooling breeze. The beauty of the woman's throaty voice amazed John, and he couldn't help but lean forward to listen. Even the drunks quieted at her song of sorrow and loss. He could relate to the words, being alone with only his men for company, and uninvited visions of the past years began to appear in his mind, one after another.
Without notice, the walls began to close in and the room swayed. John lifted his drink and held the cool glass against the side of his face; the relief was slight. At the small reprieve, John decided it was best to get some fresh air. If he continued to feel badly once outside, then he'd to head back to camp. His men would in all probability not notice his absence. With a deep breath, he got to his feet and his balance, though precarious, seemed to hold. Grateful to be somewhat steady on his legs, John walked across the room toward the hallway that led to the kitchen at the back of the house, where his horse was tethered.
Once he exited the crowded room, the air immediately became cooler, making it easier to breathe.
"Go back to the saloon, Butch, and leave me be," Mae's harsh whispered words made John stop, and he squinted into the darkness. The outline of two people filled the darkened hallway. Mae, with her back against the wall, faced a man who had his arms on both sides of her shoulders with his palms flat on the surface.
The man, who John recognized as Butch Mason, a local banker, leaned in as if to kiss Mae. John noted that her hands were pressed against Mason's chest, but with the dimness, it was hard to tell if she welcomed the male or not. Just in case the attention was unwarranted, he cleared his throat.
Mason looked toward him, his reddened eyes meeting John's for a second before returning to Mae. "I'll leave you be for now Mae, but I'll be back, don't you worry." The man caressed her cheek before sauntering past John without a word.
Releasing a deep breath, Mae remained against the wall, her gaze pinning the one opposite her. Her hand shook slightly when she reached up, her fingers pushing the golden strands into place.
With mechanical moves, she pushed away from the wall and went to brush past John. "Excuse me."
He reached out and touched her arm. "Are you all right?"
Flat eyes met his, the proud visage reappearing. "I can take care of myself, John," Mae replied, her head held high. When he reached for her again, she leaned away from his touch. "You worry about your men, and let me worry about mine." The light floral fragrance tickled his nose as she swept past toward the saloon.
No need to go after her. She'd not speak to him about it and rightly so. This was her domain, so he continued down the hallway.
The night beckoned, and John walked through the large kitchen to the back door. He pulled it open and stepped through with desperation. When the cool evening air hit his face, John closed his eyes at the relief from the sweltering interior.
Finding comfort in the solitude, he allowed his body to slump against a back porch column. He'd always enjoyed the freedom of the outdoors, preferring the quiet and stillness to being cloistered inside. The silence of the moonlit night was broken only by the muddled sounds from inside the house. The moment gave him a welcome relief to the throbbing at his temples. Hands in his pockets, he walked off the back porch and looked up to the star-filled sky. The stars twinkled in a vivid display, and he turned in a full circle until finding the telltale sign of Orion's belt then followed it to outline the rest of his favorite constellation. It was several minutes before he tore his eyes from it, the night sky never failing to fascinate him.
Turning to go back inside, he took a couple of steps and the dizziness returned full force. John blinked repeatedly and shook his head in an attempt to get his balance. Just as he reached for the porch railing, his knees buckled from under him and he slammed to the ground. The impact of his head smashing into the packed dirt with force brought an entirely new set of stars, and he moaned. When his stomach lurched, John took deep breaths to keep from vomiting and rolled to his back.
What the hell just happened?
The horse's whinnies became softer, and the breeze cooled even more as everything shifted sideways. He was in trouble and needed to get back into the house. With all the strength he could muster, John pushed to sit, but his arms gave out and he fell back again.
Next John attempted to whistle for his horse, but with his parched mouth it was nearly impossible. Wetting his lips, he kept trying until he finally managed a weak noise. The beast turned toward him, but his tether prevented him
from coming closer. "Damn it," John cursed, then called out through a clenched jaw. "Can anyone hear me?"
Please don't let Mae find me like this. He pushed up again using his arms and legs. Pain seared through his injured leg, and it was too much to bear. He groaned and fell back once more.
The stars overhead began to blur, and he closed his eyes.
Chapter 2
Mae returned to the saloon and went directly to stand by the bar where she could keep an eye on everything that went on. Thankfully, Butch Mason had rejoined a poker game and was oblivious to her, instead concentrating on the cards he held.
The middle-aged man was a power to be reckoned with in Widow's Peak. He served as the town's banker, but he wasn't above using extortion to get what he wanted. On more than one occasion he'd demanded she invite him to her bed, and when she turned him down, he threatened to take the brothel from her. Although she owned the property free and clear, she had no doubt that if Mason set his mind to take it, he could find a way. It worried her that as time passed, he became more and more demanding. She couldn't afford to have him for an enemy, yet she'd rather lose everything than sleep with a man in exchange for anything. Although a madam, Mae did not take customers; she never had and did not intend to so do now.
Ruby-Lynn, a new girl who'd just arrived from Chicago, approached the bar, and Mae waved her closer. The redhead smiled. "Yes, Miss Mae?"
"Go to the man over there, the one with the red silk handkerchief in his pocket. Keep him company and ensure he's taken care of. No charge."
She hated catering to the man, but her girls depended on her for their living, not to mention Miss Lady. Mae frowned at Ruby-Lynn's retreating back. She'd find a way to get Butch Mason to lose interest. An idea would come to her, hopefully sooner than later.
"What's gotten into you, Mae?" Miss Lady's concerned face was partly turned from her, but Mae could tell the older woman scowled. Sitting in her favorite place, a corner behind the piano, the older woman always said she could watch the goings on and not be bothered by all the commotion. "You frownin' 'stead of smilin'."
Where The Four Winds Collide Page 20