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

by Caryl McAdoo

  Only not a wife . . . She’d never be a wife again.

  Seve glanced over. “I’ve been thinking some. Praying a lot. Seems I’ve been too hard on Alicia and Flynn. What’s your mind about them going ahead and getting married?”

  “You know that’s been mine and Mallory’s prayers since they were babies.” She smiled. “I was just now thinking of being a grandmother.”

  She stared at the fire then met his eyes again. “Trying to figure who I am. What there could be to look forward to. You know . . . a purpose.”

  “Easy to understand.” His head bobbed. “So . . . you’re for it?”

  “I’m definitely not against it.”

  “We should make Memphis by Saturday midday. We could get them hitched that night and they could spend . . . what? Two days in a hotel? Wouldn’t be a real honeymoon, but about all the time we can stand.”

  Her cheeks warmed.

  Guess she was still a little like her old self after all. Exactly like Seve to get an idea in his head, figure it all out, and that was that.

  “Have you spoken to anyone else besides me about this?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Good. Please don’t, not yet. Let Mallory and me work things out.”

  “Of course, Libby. Whatever you say.”

  After riding the ferry across the river, Laud drove for her. She walked a mile, but had trouble keeping up. She’d tried to get a word with her son last night, but Seve allowed Flynn and Alicia to kindle their own fire and sit a spell.

  He even allowed hand holding. What had gotten into the man? Who would have ever thought?

  Charity Grace probably wouldn't have allowed her the time to speak with him anyway. Seemed she couldn't abide being anywhere but by Liberty's side or in her lap. Poor baby.

  After everything quieted down, and her daughter found a light, peaceful sleep, Liberty got her box out again.

  Day Eight

  Tuesday, September 22, 1840

  ~ + ~

  “The joy of our heart is ceased; our dance is turned into mourning.” Lamentations 5:15

  “I am troubled; I am bowed down greatly; I go mourning all the day long.” Psalm 38:6

  Leaving Jackson—and my husband's remains in Mississippi—was about the hardest thing I've ever done in all my life. After riding the ferry across the river, Brother offered to drive my team. Except, it's Flynn's now. The whole kit and caboodle, including his sister and me. I hated that God heaped all that responsibility on his shoulders.

  Could he possibly be ready?

  Oh, Lord, give him strength. And wisdom. And help me, Father, cause he's about to start his own life. Help me and Charity Grace find Your peace. You said you'd be my husband now since I'm a widow . . . a widow.

  She dropped her chin. The title had taken on a whole new meaning. It didn't fit her well, and she wanted to shed it. Wife seemed such a much brighter word. How could she have ever known before how sad and tragic the word widow was?

  Mercy, Lord. Have mercy on me.

  While I walked, my heart and feet yearned to turn and run back to Reagan's grave . . . but . . . neither my head nor my spirit would have it. My children definitely need me, and surely the Lord has His plan.

  I don't know what it is. Truth be told, at this very point, neither do I care. But He must. Certainly, He does. I'm sure of that.

  We stopped nine miles from Brownsville, according to some nice people who let us water our animals at their place and pointed out a nice spot to camp for the night. So, for the day, we only made eighteen miles.

  Waiting on the ferry cost a whole hour and seemed to me the mules were sluggish. Maybe too much rest. Who knows? Maybe they missed Reagan, too.

  She raised the feather, leaned back, and surrendered once again to tears.

  Help me, Lord.

  She put everything in her box, snuffed her lantern’s wick, then snuggled in next to her baby girl. Too many owl hoots later, she thought about a few nips from Corbin's bottle, but her head had pained her well past dinner.

  She'd rather stay up all night than hurt that bad.

  “Mam, you awake?”

  Her eyes opened. Charity Grace sat in her spot, holding the lantern up. “What is it, baby?”

  “I dreamed about Papa last night.”

  Tears welled in her child’s eyes, then her own. She held her arms out. Her daughter set the light down then fell onto her embrace.

  “Was it a good dream?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s so happy. Papa says Heaven is so beautiful and that we’ll just love it there.”

  “I’m certain we will when God calls us home. But that’s a while off still. We can’t go there, not yet.”

  Her father’s sudden change of heart baffled Alicia. It surprised her greatly he hadn’t said a word about her hugging Flynn at his father’s funeral, and yesterday, he even allowed her and him to build a fire out of earshot.

  And then best boon of all, the man said he’d not object if she and her fiancé held hands! She grinned thinking that he’d said, ‘But that’s it. No other touching, and I'll be watching.’

  And Flynn seemed even more shocked than she. He was so cute, and she loved him so much. Claimed he’d rehearsed exactly what he was going to say about the hug, but then it never came up.

  Then she could sit a fire with him and hold his hand.

  But in the bit of last night’s firelight, the red in his eyes worried her. She wanted to say something about his papa, but didn't know what, so the conversation skirted that subject. She kept thinking, what if it had been her Pa . . .?

  Or even Flynn?

  Those thoughts pained her heart too much to think long on them though.

  That morning, Wednesday if she had it right, had gone about like the previous ones on the trail before Uncle Reagan . . . The camp got up before the sun, way before a body should, and she and the rest of the grownups worked really hard getting gone.

  The children had their chores, but they weren’t much. Only Katie Kay and Josie Jo got to sleep in.

  Then walking or riding mile after mile after mile. How boring such a long journey was. Nothing like she’d imagined. Old enough to remember the trip south to Tennessee, she couldn’t say why she figured going to Texas would be any different.

  The wagon’s hard seat proved rough, and unlike Josie Jo, Alicia had no padded bed to sleep the day away in. For the truth of it, she enjoyed walking a bit at first, but after a mile or so, it got troublesome, too.

  The dinner hour never came soon enough, but that day was different. The clan made Brownsville at half past eleven by Pa's pocket watch, and he led the train to the campgrounds.

  Once all the mules contentedly munched the grain in their feed bags, he took her aside.

  “Laud and me are going back into town, see about finding another pair of mules. Do not think you and Flynn are free to do as you please. I've spoken with your Ma and Libby, too. I know neither one of you will disappoint me. You're both on your honor.”

  “Yes, sir.” With a quick nod, she raised up on her toes and kissed his cheek. What was he thinking? “Pa, I love you. Thank you again for being so understanding. I won't disappoint you and neither will Flynn.”

  Silly man eyed her hard, as if he could scare her into being good. He hollered back over his shoulder. “I love you, too.”

  While last night's leftover beans heated, and two pans of cornbread baked, she eased up behind Flynn and slipped a hand into his. He jerked, but she didn't let go. Instead, she pulled him around.

  “Pa said we’re on our honor. Want to sit a spell? Dinner’s still a few minutes away.”

  He smiled, though a sadness tinged the sparkle she adored in his eyes. “I’d love to.”

  She stepped away, tugged, and he fell into lockstep with her. He held her hand as she eased down, her back to a big oak, then sat cross-legged in front of her.

  “You have any idea what’s got into your father?”

  “No. Well . . . I might have an idea.”<
br />
  “What is it?”

  “Well, maybe it’s just that he . . .” She stopped herself. How could she be so insensitive?

  “You were going to say something about Papa’s death, weren’t you? I’ve thought of that, but it really doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’m so sorry, Flynn. My heart hurts too, though I’m certain nothing as bad as yours.”

  “Oh, I miss Papa something terrible, but . . .” He hiked both shoulders. “I know exactly where he is, so I'm not sad for him.” He looked over her head then back. “Those he left behind have to keep on living.”

  So wise. One more reason why she loved him. “It doesn’t bother you then? Talking about him?”

  “Not really. I mean, I cried a bucket of tears, but . . . getting him in the ground. That helped. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.”

  “That’s true of course. So then here’s what I'm thinking, that Uncle Reagan passed so fast in such a crazy accident it put Pa to thinking how life can so quickly end. Maybe he decided it was wrong, making us wait . . .”

  “Sounds logical.”

  “That something could happen to anyone at any time, and he doesn't want our happiness cut short on account of his stubbornness.”

  A sigh escaped. “Might be it.”

  Dinner got called before his love questioned Flynn about his thoughts on why her father suddenly turned so accommodating. If he’s read the man right though, he no longer had any objections to him and Alicia being married.

  Laud showed first, leading a nice-looking animal. Right behind him, Alicia’s father, with hobbles draped over his shoulder, had the off mule in tow. A little older maybe than the main mule, but he looked stout enough to pull his weight.

  His uncle threw him a nod. “A hand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Flynn handed his plate to Alicia and hot trailed the men and new team. Corbin came, too.

  All in all, he and the three other men decided that the new boys should work the rest of the day and the pair that came with the new wagon would get a rest. Except walking behind a wagon instead of pulling wasn’t exactly like loafing in a field eating clover.

  Once finished swapping harnesses and watering all the mules, while Laud and Corbin headed to the cook-fire, Seve stopped Flynn with a hand to his forearm. After a moment, Mister Van Zandt turned his back to where his wife and daughter sat.

  “I've been praying about things, Son, and I've decided you and Alicia are free to marry.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Flynn nodded. “Is that why you allowed us to sit off by ourselves and hold hands?”

  “It is. At Reagan’s funeral, I saw how much you two love each other. Put me in mind of Mallory and myself.”

  Glancing at his love, Flynn nodded again. She stared at him then looked back to Gabby. “I take it you haven’t said anything to Alicia.”

  “That's right. I talked it over with your mother, and Lib said she and Mallory are going to work out the details, dress and all, I suspect.”

  Flynn didn't know what to say. “How much did we give for our new mules?”

  “Forty. The man threw in the hobbles.”

  “How much do we have in the strong box now?”

  The man stood a bit taller and turned a little green around the gills then just as quick, relaxed.

  “I’m not use to being questioned like this, but you’re right. We’re partners now, and you have every right. We’ve got twelve hundred seventy-four dollars and sixty-four cents.”

  “Sounds like a lot, but after what it’ll cost us to get there, no telling how much we’ll have left.”

  “True, what are you driving at, Son?”

  “Mam and Charity Grace. Seeing after them is my responsibility now. And . . . all things considered, sir, I don’t rightly see how I can take on a wife, not just yet.”

  He swallowed. “Don’t get me wrong, sir. I love your daughter with my whole heart, and it honors me that you’re willing and ready to give me her hand in marriage.”

  His future father-in-law nodded.

  “Alicia wants a bushel basket full of babies and . . .” He shrugged. “It's like you said before, best to wait until I can provide a roof and a living. I told you I would, sir. Gave you my word.”

  “You're a good man, Flynn.”

  The man's eyes teared, and it looked like he was doing everything he could to hold them there, but one slipped down his cheek.

  “A chip off the old block. Your Papa . . . he'd be so proud.” He sniffed and nodded. “As I am.” He extended his hand, swiping at his cheek with the other.

  Flynn took it and shook it heartily, his own tears falling. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate you saying that.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Matching her gait to the wagon’s speed, Alicia grabbed the sideboard and hoisted herself aboard, settling on the bench seat next to Flynn. His eyes widened, and his expression told it all.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Pa said I could, so there’s no need to throw me off the wagon.” She reached for his hand, and he transferred the reins to his left one, letting her intertwine her fingers in his. She scooched closer to him, keeping a narrow space between his side and hers.

  “I can’t imagine what’s gotten into him, but he’s a different man.”

  “That’s definitely a fact.”

  “Amen.”

  “I love spending more time together.” He nodded at the new mules. ‘‘Good, boys. Your father and Laud sure picked a nice pair.”

  “They seem so.”

  Talking about the mules? Definitely not the conversation she’d run to catch up with the wagon for. Animals! Was he trying to change the topic on purpose?

  “What were you and Pa talking about before dinner?”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No, but it seems to me like everyone knows but me. Well, not Gabby or the children. What did he have to say?”

  For three or four turns of the wagon’s wheels, he stared ahead as though he couldn’t bear telling her. Or maybe he was figuring out how best to do it. Was it bad then? He finally cocked his head away from her and hiked a shoulder.

  Obviously, he’d convinced himself to spit it out. At least that what she hoped.

  “He told me we could marry.”

  “What? When?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

  “Really? He said that? Oh, wow! That’s wonderful! How many days until we get to Memphis? Isn’t that where we cross the Mississippi? I can’t wait to see it. We could have—wait. Why hasn’t anyone told me?”

  “Could be on account of what I told him.”

  “What? What’d you say? Did you make him angry? Cause him to change his mind?”

  “No not at all. I think he liked it. Called me a chip off my Papa’s block.”

  “Perfect, so the service can be at a pretty spot on the river then! It doesn’t matter how soon.” She scoffed. “I can be ready by Memphis—or tonight!” She squeezed his hand. “Is that why Pa said I could ride with you? So you could tell me yourself?”

  “No, I suspect another reason.”

  “What would that be?”

  “I figure more for me to explain why I told him I wasn’t ready.”

  “What? Flynn! Why? It’s what we’ve wanted ever since you kissed me in the garden. We’ve talked about it again and again. I don’t understand. Tell me. Why wouldn’t you be ready? For goodness’ sakes! Tell me now and tell me true.”

  “What about Mam? And Charity Grace?”

  ‘What about them? What do they have to do with us getting married? I thought your mother was all for it. I mean, she knows we love each other. She told me she was! Nothing else matters!”

  “That’s true. I love you with my whole heart, Alicia. But it’s just . . . with Papa gone . . . their care falls to me. I have a responsibility to be sure they have food to eat and a roof over their heads. You know that, don’t you?”

  He looked into her eyes. “Sweetheart, we’v
e got some money now, but only the Lord knows how long that will last.”

  “I don’t care about money!”

  “And you shouldn’t have to. That’s a man’s burden. Hopefully, we’ll have enough to buy some land and build a cabin big enough for all four of us. Then I’ll build another for them.”

  “Reagan Flynn O’Neal, none of that matters! We can face whatever comes together! Papa has been our only hindrance, and now he’s all agreeable. I say let’s get married quick before he changes his mind.”

  “But—”

  “No buts! We’ll all be just fine. You’ll see. So please. Stop all this nonsense, and let’s be about planning our wedding.”

  “No, Alicia. It isn’t nonsense. Not at all, and if I say we wait, then we’ll wait.”

  His words set her back.

  What was wrong with him? He sounded more stubborn than her father. She’d never seen him like that. His mother would never want him not to marry her as soon as possible—would she?

  Had she been telling him stuff to make him feel that way? Things like how would she get along without Uncle or what was she going to do when they got to Texas?

  It wasn’t fair!

  The silence deafened her shocked ears. Her hand went limp. She couldn’t believe the words he spat but had to say something. “Oh.” She stood.

  He squeezed her hand. She pulled it away. “Come on, Alicia. Don’t be like that.”

  “Don’t be like what, Flynn? You’re sitting there telling me we have to wait when getting married is all we’ve wanted, and Pa says yes finally, and you say no? How do you expect me to act? Oh how she wanted to slap some sense into his handsome face. “Mercy!”

  “Mercy is right, sweetheart. My Papa died.”

  As if she didn’t know that! But in her opinion, that should have not one thing to do with them getting married as planned! She hiked her dress an inch or two and climbed down.

  Without a glance back, she sprinted to the lead wagon. She needed her mother.