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

by Caryl McAdoo

  At three-thirty by Seve's pocket watch—Flynn figured he best get himself one though he'd hate to spend the money—he took to putting the feedbags on the mules. By their order, his father's main boy was first, then Laud's and on down the line.

  They all knew their places and stayed in them. Funny how each waited for him to strap on its feed-filled bag, put him on the picket line, then go for the next.

  Only took two days of a few nips and halfhearted kicks for the four new boys to figure out where they fit in.

  According to Papa, a body should never match two main mules together. He said best have an off animal, or they'd always be trying to get the best on each other. Flynn had never tried it, but his father knew more than he let on about most everything.

  Dawn found him on the road to Jackson with a full belly and new hope. Laud hadn't considered that Gabby needed a husband to try and cover her sin.

  The question, if that was the case, was who had done the honors in the first place. And why he hadn't he stepped up?

  The city of Jackson, named after Andrew even before he became president, reminded Flynn a lot of Charlotte, but bigger.

  His love's father found a right nice spot on the far side of town along the Forked Deer River. He loved the descriptive name and pictured deer up and down the bank. It must have already forked upriver.

  Was 'forked' really necessary? Made the rivers name a mouthful for sure.

  By lot, his night off from standing watch came around, but did they even need a guard on duty that close to town?

  An afternoon off! Praise the Lord. Alicia loved it!

  Even the little girls tagging along with her and Gabby to town couldn't dampen her mood. The gray sky either! She willed the clouds to hold their water until after the trip to Jackson.

  She loved being free and away from those dreadful wagons for a few hours.

  Past the warehouses and corrals, mere steps before the first shop, Alicia stopped and faced her sister. “Arlene.” She eyed Flynn’s little sister. “You, too, Charity Grace. Stay with me. At all times. Keep me in sight. You understand?”

  Yes ma'am echoed.

  “I’m not kidding. I am not going to be constantly watching out after you. It's your responsibility if you ever want to come with me and Gabby again.”

  Both girls curled their lips, rolled their eyes, then faked a smile. “Yes, ma'am.”

  “I'm serious, now. No telling what might happen if you run off. So many people means there's some wicked ones in this town for certain. Plus, if someone mean doesn't get you, I promise Pa and Uncle Reagan will hear about it, and they will.”

  “We know. We heard you the first time. We'll be good and stay right with you, Sister.”

  Of all the things that caught her eye, none proved worth parting with any of her cash.

  “Hey.” Gabby tapped her shoulder. “Feel this material. It's so soft.”

  “What is it? Mercy, is there a bolt in white?”

  “White? Why would you want white? I'd think a green would bring out your eyes.”

  “What bride wants to be married in green?”

  “Oh! You're getting married even before we get to Texas? When did this happen?”

  “Well, seems to me everyone but Pa is for us marrying right away. Twice—once from Ma and then Aunt Liberty, too—the hints were so strong that the clan purchased the new wagon and team intending it to be a wedding present.”

  “Really?”

  “It's a wonder they didn't just spit it out.”

  “Want me to ask if it comes in white?”

  “No, it wouldn't be cheap. Plus, there'd be a veil and buttons and the right shoes to buy. No, I truly don't even want to know.”

  “You're so lucky. He loves you. It's very evident.”

  “Blessed.” She smiled. “I love him too, with my whole heart.”

  A single tear rolled over Gabby's cheek.

  “Oh, friend, don't cry.”

  More tears overflowed. “You shouldn't call me friend at all, Alicia. I've been hoping it wasn't so, but him singing you that song . . . Oh, if it had only been me. I fear no one will ever love me like that, not like Flynn loves you.”

  Compassion filled Alicia's own eyes with tears. She was so blessed. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around Gabriella. “Don't say that. There's someone out there made just for you. Maybe in Texas.”

  “I can only hope.”

  “Gabby.” Alicia held her out. “Will you forgive me?”

  “You? No, no. I'm the one who needs forgiveness. I've been so forward! And you were always such a proper lady, and really good to me. I've never had a friend like you.”

  “I guarantee you, I have not always been so proper in my heart. The other day on the trail, I wanted to snatch you bald when you started walking with him. I had murder in my heart.”

  “See? I do need forgiveness.” Gabby laughed.

  “All right then. I do forgive you.” Alicia moved in and hugged her again. “I haven't ever had a best friend either. Just keep you paws off my man.” She giggled.

  “I promise.”

  A tug on her sleeve pulled her from Gabby's embrace. “Sister, loan me a dollar. Will you?”

  That night, while a light rain wet the wagon's well-waxed canvas, Liberty got out her journal, ink, and quill. How could anyone curse the rain? But . . . it would have been nice if the Lord held it off for a while.

  Day Five

  Saturday September 19, 1840

  ~ + ~

  “A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.” Proverbs 18:24

  Made Jackson a little after noon, only seven miles, found a nice campsite along the Forked Deer River outside of town.

  The four big girls went to town, haven't talked to Alicia yet, but she and Gabby came back holding hands like they were her mother and me at that age.

  Mallory doesn't know whatever’s going on either. I shot her a what-happened look at supper, and she only shrugged. Esther seemed bewildered, too. Hopefully, it isn’t Miss Harrell working some kind of dodge on Alicia.

  If that girl comes between Flynn and Alicia, I will not be responsible for my actions.

  Dipping the quill, she laughed. Thank you, Lord, for levelheaded husbands who keep their wives from doing evil things to young girls. She glanced at her love who had rolled away from her light.

  Oh, how she loved him. Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with the love of this man. I know I didn't do anything to deserve him. She returned to her journal.

  Seve and Laud found a nice pair of mules, but the man only wants cash, forty-two dollars. Seed is only bringing a cent a pound in Jackson, so selling any here is out. He brought it up at supper, said for everyone to sleep on it.

  We'll decide tomorrow.

  The showers started after supper, but the rain isn't hard at all. The canvas is shedding just fine. Hopefully, it will let up before all the wax is washed out. I hate a leaking roof.

  It appears my daughter-in-love-to-be and the interloper have come to some kind of reckoning as they returned from town laughing and hand in hand.

  I hope she hasn't been bamboozled into letting her guard down, and that her pigheaded, stubborn father will agree to let her marry Flynn—the sooner, the better. It's hard to be young.

  With the rain and being so close to town, no watch tonight. Looking forward to a day off tomorrow and hope the precipitation won't spoil it.

  Putting all her gear into a wooden cigar box that Charity Grace surprised her with from the trip to town, Liberty snuffed the lantern’s burning wick then slipped under the covers. Reagan rolled over and wrapped her in a bear hug. She loved cuddling.

  Chapter Sixteen

  More rain fell overnight, but praise the Lord, the day broke clear. The men had put enough deadfall and kindling under the wagons to get the campfire back to life. For Liberty's druthers, church topped the list.

  Over breakfast, she sought the mood of everyone e
lse. Most agreed and thought it a great idea. But her brother spoke up with a pretty good idea of his own.

  “Seems to me someone—or two someones—should stay behind. What with all the Godly folks gathered in church, that leaves only the scoundrels and highway men out and about.”

  Of course, Aaron jumped to his feet. “Me and Rich will be happy to stay behind to keep an eye on things.”

  How could anyone not enjoy that boy?

  His mother rocked forward, grabbed her youngest's arm, then pulled the little booger into her lap. “I love how brave you are, Son, and that you'd volunteer to help the clan, but we best leave a man on guard duty.”

  “Aww.” He slumped down. “Do I have to go to stupid church?”

  “Yes, sir.” She hugged him tight. “It'll do you good, my little darling.”

  Corbin tossed his hat over his right boot toe. “Izzy and I can stay behind. Most folks don't abide a Negress in their church houses anyway, so might as well be us. Kill two lizards with one swat.”

  Seve took the floor with a nod. “Good. It's settled then. I asked yesterday when Laud and I were mule shopping, and the Methodists meet at ten-thirty. That work for everyone?”

  A round of affirmations sounded, and the talk turned to the weather.

  Distracted, Liberty kept an eye on the slave girl who stood behind her master. Her expression never changed, even a little. As though whatever she did made her no never mind. Stay or go. She'd do as told.

  It shamed Liberty that she still hadn't spoken with the young lady. Had she ever heard the Good News of Jesus Christ?

  Some claimed most slaves were believers, but others allowed that to be a belief of convenience since their Christian owners gave them a few hours off every Sunday. They’d count the day like a party.

  They’d hold themselves a brush arbor meeting where those gathered mostly sang and danced like wild animals, according to a sharp-tongued neighbor back in Tennessee. Where had that lady ever got that from?

  Izzy was certainly never wild nor like an animal. Quiet and passive, she worked hard and quickly did the bidding of both Corbin and his daughter. And she always jumped in to help with whatever needed doing.

  The girl was nothing less than a Godsend when Esther delivered Josie Jo.

  All around, a much better neighbor than the one talking so ugly and spreading such venom. The scripture where Paul admonished slaves and masters to be the best they could came to mind.

  Was that what the girl was doing?

  Her love stood in front of her, extending his hand toward her. “I've put some water on to heat. You want the first turn, Wife? I figured you'd appreciate a sponge bath, and maybe even more if I had a tub.” He laughed.

  “Indeed, Husband, and thank you. A sponge bath is better than none at all.” She took his hand, letting him propel her into his arms. “You spoil me, Reagan Flynn O'Neal.”

  He kissed her lightly. “I try, my love. I'll loose the flaps so you'll have some privacy.”

  Nothing akin to a good long soak, but the warm soapy rag proved mighty nice. Her husband scrubbing her back, even better.

  After church, the men took a quick sidetrack then surprised the ladies with three fat hens. Of course, Liberty and the other women could hardly wait to fry them up. Esther got a pot of potatoes steaming.

  Who didn't love a big chicken dinner on a Sunday afternoon? Especially a whole long, lovely one with no jostling wagon rides.

  Once sated, while her husband and son serenaded the camp, she contemplated the morning's service the clan had attended.

  Any of the men surely could have come up with more moving analogy of Jesus and the woman caught in adultery than the man behind the pulpit had—and certainly one more family oriented!

  Bless God that preacher hadn't spent any more time dwelling on the exact sin she'd committed, but why even mention that? Thank the Lord Charity Grace and Arlene had their heads together and weren't paying much attention.

  She'd been waiting to have 'the talk' with her daughter, but it surely loomed on the horizon. Maybe after her next birthday. Twelve seemed way more mature than eleven.

  Or twenty-five. Yes, that'd be even better.

  She smiled to herself.

  Where had the years gone?

  Her eyelids dropped, and she had a bit of trouble lifting them again. The fiddles' sugary notes offered to carry her away. A quick afternoon nap would be so nice. She leaned back in her padded rocker in surrender. Sweet nothingness engulfed her.

  “Mam! Uncle Seve! Anyone! Come help!”

  Liberty jumped from her chair. She'd slept. How long? She looked toward the cry for help. Charity Grace, halfway to the river, frantically waved her arms. “Help! Rich and Aaron fell into the water! Hurry!”

  From her right, Reagan flew by, racing toward the spot his daughter pointed. Liberty gathered her skirt and followed. All the other men ran past, too. She and Mallory barely stayed up but running downhill helped.

  Soaking wet, Aaron scrambled over the rise just as Reagan drew near. Her husband ran past the him and down the bank, splashing out into the river, still running, but slowed by the water.

  At first, she could only hear him then got to the top of the rise herself.

  Scrambling down the embankment, Laud and Flynn reached the river's edge next.

  Mallory went to her knees and wrapped her drenched baby boy in a mama bear hug.

  “Save Rich!” he screamed to the top of his lungs.

  With the scene in full view below, and all the men there to help, Liberty and her best friend waited there at the top. Reagan scooped his nephew up and turned, grinning, in chest-deep water.

  Rich clung to his neck.

  “He's fine. All's well.”

  With her hands cupped on either side of her mouth, Liberty hollered back to camp. “They're all right! Both fine!”

  Poor Esther must have been beside herself.

  Laud eased down into the muddy water and met Reagan halfway, taking his son.

  Flynn held his hand out, but his father waved him off. “Here's a root I can grab and hoist myself up. I'm liable to pull you in, Son. Not the other way around.”

  Liberty backed away.

  “I'll get some water on.” She laughed. “Not every day a body gets two baths on a such a blessed Sunday as this.”

  Still quite out of breath, she turned and trudged back up the hill, thanking God the boys were safe.

  Those two sure kept their angels busy. She hadn't taken but a few steps before a hollered whoa and loud splash spun her back toward the river.

  “No!” Mallory stood, holding Aaron's hand.

  Liberty ran back.

  Reagan floated face down.

  She screamed.

  What happened?

  No sound came out.

  Then finally, “What happened?”

  Flynn and Corbin jumped into the muddy water, flipped him, and lifted his shoulders.

  “Get him out! Reagan! Get him out! Is he all right?”

  It took great effort to drag him up the embankment. Laud and Seve kept slipping.

  “Hurry, Brother! Reagan! You hold on!” She caught her brother’s glance. “What in the world happened?”

  “They're trying, Lib.” Mallory gripped her arm. “He’s coming. Hurry, Seve!” Her friend went back to her knees at the edge and lowered her extended hand. “Stay back, Aaron!”

  Liberty fell to hers beside her best friend to help pull her husband over the top of the embankment.

  “Reagan! Open your eyes! Reagan!” Finally, they stretched him out on the flatter ground. She shook him. “Wake up! Can you hear me?” He groaned but didn’t open his eyes. She looked to her brother. “What happened, Laud?”

  “Don't know, Sis. He pulled himself up grabbing that root, then took another hold a little further up. Next thing I knew, he was back in the river.”

  “Mam, Papa put his foot on that root he'd hoisted himself on, and it gave way. He slammed his head on the bank then slid back in
to the water.

  An egg—sized knot just above his right temple swelled. “Oh, Reagan! Please wake up.”

  Overcome, she laid her head down onto his chest then pushed herself up.

  She frantically looked from one face to the next. “His heart! It isn't beating! I don't hear a heartbeat!” She turned back to her love. “Reagan!”

  Seve knelt beside her. “Let me see.” She moved back. Seve pressed two fingers on her husband's neck. His countenance fell. He shook his head ever so slightly.

  “No! No! Reagan! It isn't true! No, God!”

  Mallory's arms were around her.

  Her son laid his head on his father's chest. “Papa. Papa.”

  Laud hugged her from the other side.

  “No, no, no.” Horrible, painful sobs rose from her deepest parts. “It. Can't. Be. Reagan, no. Don't leave me. Oh, God! Oh, God! No.”

  Flynn rose and held her face. “Mam. He's gone. Let's get him back to camp. Aunt Mallory, would you beat us back and see to Charity Grace?”

  “Yes, please, Mally. Get her into the wagon or something. I don't want her to see her daddy. Not like this.”

  “I will. Of course, I will.” She leaned forward and pressed her tear—wet cheeks to Liberty's, then kissed her before struggling to her feet.

  Searching her son's eyes, her heart shattered. “What am I going to do, Flynn? Whatever am I going to do without him?”

  “I don't know, Mam, but we'll be all right. We'll get by. God will help us.”

  How could it be?

  Laud climbed in then helped the other men ease Reagan's body into his wagon. Seve crawled in then turned around. “Corbin, would you be so kind to fetch the undertaker?”

  “Of course. I'll be right back.”

  Izzy showed with a bucket filled with wet rags. “Miss Gabby is heating water, we figured you'd want to get him changed into some dry things. Cleaned up a little.”

  “Thank you.” Laud took the bucket then went to working on pulling off his brother-in-law’s trousers.

  Seve wrestled with his shirt. “Oh, Lord God Almighty.” He pointed at his neck. “Look.”