I am Mrs. Jesse James

by Pat Wahler

  “Yes. Frank and Jesse are trying to discover what happened and will see you when they can.” I smoothed her hair. “They’re making plans. I know they won’t let this go unanswered.”

  “We always have to get justice our own way, don’t we? There certainly won’t be any from the sheriff.”

  “Jesse says no one is to know about me being here last night. I’m not sure what difference it makes now, but that’s what he wants.”

  She nodded. “He’s right. The coroner and his jury are coming to the house tonight for the inquest. We don’t need to give them anything more to pry into than necessary.” She glanced at her bandaged arm. “Since I can’t travel, they’re coming to me. All they will hear is what they need to find the men who murdered my innocent baby.” She choked back a sob. “Oh God oh God oh God …”

  I took her hand and prayed over her until the soft words calmed her into sleep.

  Bundling myself against the cold night air, I drove the rig as far from the farm as I dared. By the time Ambrose came to let me know the inquest had ended, my hands were numb and my feet like blocks of ice. He tied his mule to the wagon and took the reins. On the ride home, he told me what happened.

  At six o’clock, five men from the area had arrived, accompanied by a reporter and Mr. Albright, the coroner. They convened in the sleeping room, gathered around Zerelda and Archie, and spoke to each other in low tones.

  Mr. Albright had stroked his beard before raising a hand for silence. “We are bound by law to investigate any violent or suspicious death. Our job today is to gather evidence on what happened here. If the jury finds a crime caused this child to die and this woman to be injured, then the matter will be turned over to the marshal for him to find the culprits and arrest them for what they’ve done. Do you have any questions?” The men looked at each other, but no one spoke. “Fine then. We’ll get to our work.”

  The coroner pulled back the blanket, so the men could see Archie’s wound. Then Reuben and Ambrose described what happened. When the men questioned Zerelda, she sat up in her bed, white-faced with pain and spoke in a voice that quivered with emotion. She pointed at Archie’s body, and demanded the men who had murdered her child be found. Ambrose said by the faces of the jury, Zerelda’s testimony had a powerful effect. Not even a heart of stone could fail to melt in the face of such passion.

  After the questioning, the men examined the kitchen and went outside to view the damage done to the house. They walked the grounds and looked in the barn. By the time the jury went back inside, the moon had risen high in the sky. Mr. Albright told Reuben the matter would be turned over to the sheriff.

  When I got back to the house, I gave Zerelda a dose of pain medicine and laid in a bed close to her in case she needed help. When her breathing came soft and regular, I closed my eyes. The image of Archie’s dear face and sweet smile did not leave me.

  The next morning, hammers pounded. Reuben and Ambrose were already repairing the damage outside. Inside, Charlotte and I filled a basin with water for the sad task of bathing Archie’s small body. Despite the many wounds I’d seen in the past, his made me wince more than any had ever done. The child’s pain must have been unendurable. My tears fell as I worked. Zerelda looked at Archie and her mouth trembled as she directed us to dress him in a suit of Confederate gray.

  News of the attack appeared in papers and spread fast throughout Clay County—then across the nation. People wanted to know what had happened, and they wanted to know why. Other news of the day disappeared, and reporters flocked to Clay County like flies buzzing around honey.

  Zerelda’s strong constitution and pure grit held her upright during Archie’s funeral, despite the agony that throbbed in the stump of her arm. Our family, neighbors, and friends arrived to pay their respects. Reporters came too, their eyes darting through the mourners, no doubt hoping they’d find Jesse and Frank among them. John Newman Edwards shook my hand, his brows furrowed over intelligent eyes, to express his condolences.

  “Rest assured, Mrs. James, I will write about this low blow against the South and demand justice.”

  My old friend Catherine, now newly married herself, came all the way from Harlem to Kearney, and kissed my cheek.

  “Such a shocking tragedy. Zee, I’m so sorry for your loss. Will they ever find those responsible for this terrible deed?”

  “The sheriff has gathered evidence, but we believe the Pinkertons are at fault. Those of us who stood with the South are given little in the way of fair treatment.”

  My words could have come straight from Jesse, but they described precisely how I felt.

  It came as no surprise when the sheriff finally announced that Pinkerton detectives were indeed responsible for the raid, but when it came to light that they’d been helped by Zerelda’s neighbor, Dan Askew, my fury matched Zerelda’s. Dan had allowed the detectives to use his home as an operating base in the hunt for Frank and Jesse, all the while pretending to be our friend.

  Alan Pinkerton claimed the outcome of the raid was unintended. Some people sided with the detectives, but most were appalled and outraged against them. Yet regardless of anyone’s opinion over where the blame laid, on one point everyone agreed. If Jesse and Frank caught up with the men involved first, there’d be hell to pay.

  A week later, Zerelda seemed able enough to function without my help, and I bought a train ticket for home. The horrors I’d seen had drained me, and for my baby’s sake, I needed the solace of rest. Not long after my return, a newspaper headline trumpeted a new death. Dan Askew had been found shot dead in his own backyard. The reporter quoted Zerelda, who’d been asked who she thought might have killed her neighbor. She responded in a fashion more cryptic than usual.

  “Dan made a lot of enemies during the war. Any one of them could have come after him.”

  I shed no tears over Dan Askew and his treachery, and already knew what Jesse would say.

  An eye for an eye.

  24

  By early summer, my belly stretched and swelled, although loose fitting garments disguised my condition. I‘d spent an afternoon knitting a soft wool blanket for the baby, and when Jesse came home I showed it to him.. He nodded at my effort, flicked his glance toward the window, and then made an announcement.

  “We’re moving to Edgefield, Tennessee in a few days. I’ll find a place for us near the Hite farm. Uncle George is looking forward to having us close enough to visit.”

  I dropped the blanket into my lap. “Why?”

  “Frank’s laying low, and I’ve got an itch to head south. Maybe when the Pinkertons find out we’re not around anymore, Ma and Reuben can live in peace. Ever since they were attacked, one person or another is tramping through the fields to snoop. Ma says the children can’t sleep at night without waking up a dozen times, scared about what could happen next.”

  “Well,” I said carefully. “I don’t think light travel would harm the baby. Perhaps Tennessee would be a good place to raise a child.”

  “It might at that.” The fierce look left his face and he grinned at me. “Did you know some of the best horses in the country come from Tennessee and Kentucky? After we get settled, maybe I’ll buy us a race horse or two.”

  “I’d like that. Having a champion would be a fine way to start the ranch you’ve talked about.”

  Jesse smoothed his hand over my hair. “My Zee, ever true. You’re ready to go when I say and do what I want. Are you sure you won’t mind moving away from your sisters and brothers?”

  “I don’t mind it at all as long as we’re together. You’re my family now, Jesse. Any time I want to see our kin, I can take the train to visit them.”

  I packed the trunk, and Jesse helped me box the few household items we owned. He took me to my younger brother, Thomas, before pointing the wagon with our belongings toward Tennessee. Jesse had refused to let me ride next to him on the bouncing wagon seat, fearing it might harm the baby. I counted the days until Thomas drove me to the train station.

  When I
finally arrived at the Nashville depot, Jesse waited for me with one booted foot on a bench, puffing a cigar. My breath caught in my chest after he tossed the stogie to the ground and took me into his arms.

  “Hello, sweetheart.” Despite the gazes of amused onlookers, he kissed me.

  “Let’s get you home. I imagine you could use some rest.”

  “You’ve found a place for us to stay?”

  “A nice little house on Boscobel Street. I think you’ll like it.”

  He drove us from Nashville to Edgefield, near the Cumberland River. The small town reminded me of Harlem by the muddy Missouri, and the raw scent of river water made me feel as though I’d come home.

  Jesse stopped the buggy when he reached a small white house in a row of similar homes on a quiet road. A large hackberry tree shaded the front porch. I knew the tree’s ripe fruit would attract birds of all types, and even though they’d leave behind a mess, I didn’t mind. One of my favorite morning sounds came from twittering birds.

  A young woman and her small daughter waved at us from the porch next door. I lifted my hand in return. Jesse waved too, but rather than speaking to them, he took my arm and hurried me into the house.

  Our new home had a parlor with a side table and settee, a kitchen with a sturdy pine table and two chairs, and a sleeping room with a bed and a dresser.

  “You can buy whatever else you’d like from the mercantile in town. I rented the house under the same names we used before and told the landlord I’m working as a wheat speculator. That way when I need to travel, no one will be surprised.”

  Alarmed, I turned to look at him. “You aren’t planning to leave soon, are you?”

  “Don’t worry about any of that now. Take a good long nap, then we’ll go to town later, so I can show you where things are.”

  It didn’t escape me that he’d avoided my question. “But I’m not tired. You know it won’t be much longer until the baby comes. Will you be here with me?”

  “Of course, I will. As a matter of fact, I’ve already found a doctor for you. His name is Dr. Vertrees, and you’ll meet him soon.”

  I sat on the settee and pulled off my gloves. “During the entire trip, I daydreamed about you finding a job in Tennessee. Farming or ranching, either one would be fine with me.”

  “Perhaps, someday. Remember that the war took away more than our liberty. It turned me into a hunted man. A job working for someone else is risky. They’d ask too many questions, and next thing you know, I could be sitting in a jail cell. Besides,” he looked at me, “I’m not ready to forget what the Federals did to us.” His brows drew together. “Think of Archie and Ma. The one thing I can still do is pick the pocketbook of any business owned by Radicals or Federals. In that way, we can devil them and be repaid, at least in part, for everything we’ve lost.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “I know there’s a lot to avenge. I can’t forget what happened any more than you. Remember I was there to witness it. Things have been done to make our lives difficult, and I understand how you feel, but I want you here so our child will know his father.”

  Jesse pulled away from me and paced to the window. “All right then, I’m giving you the truth. Next week, I must go meet up with Frank, but the less you know of any other details, the better off you’ll be. If I name a destination, any wind blowing from that direction will make you sick with worry. As for the baby, I promise nothing will keep me away. I have no intention of missing the birth of my child.”

  “So, I’ll be alone here?”

  “Not alone. Dr. Vertrees has a son named John. He’s a steady man, not much younger than us, and willing to stay with you whenever I have to leave. I don’t want you to be by yourself, not in your condition.”

  I swallowed hard and he put his arms around me. With the sticky heat of summer, I knew my rounded belly and puffy ankles did not make an attractive picture. I buried my face in his shirt, and a woman’s worries made my voice sound smaller than I wanted.

  “I’m sorry I look so terrible.”

  “Terrible? Is that what you think? I tell you, Zee, you have never looked more beautiful. You’re carrying our child. Nothing is more important than that, and I intend to make sure both you and our baby have everything you deserve, no matter what it takes.”

  My gaze dropped to the floor. “Will you be away long?”

  He tilted up my chin, and laughed. “You know I’m smart enough to get back home soon as I can.”

  His words were true, yet in superstitious fear, I wished he hadn’t said so. It tempted fate.

  The next morning, Jesse introduced me to John Vertrees, a dark-haired, brown-eyed man who made me smile because he reminded me of my brother David. Before leaving, Jesse hired a house girl named Patsy to help during the day while John took on a husband’s chores, hammering a few pictures on the wall and fetching items from the mercantile that were too heavy for me to carry. Settling into our new home kept me busy enough to stave off most of my worries while I waited. And within two weeks, Jesse returned.

  Despite my increasing bulk, his presence made me lighter on my feet, and I thanked John for his kindness in helping me during Jesse’s absence.

  Jesse had a more extravagant method to show gratitude. He pulled a thick wad of bills from his wallet and carelessly counted out one hundred fifty dollars. Then he handed it to the astonished young man.

  “You’ve done well by me, John. Take this for your trouble, and remember, I may need your services again soon. I don’t want Mrs. Howard without a man’s protection when I travel.”

  Jesse’s good humor and bulging pockets told me his trip had been successful. Profit meant he’d be in no hurry to leave, and I felt torn between relief and dread over his determination to carry out plans for which he refused to share details, despite the many questions I asked.

  I’d reached the point where my size and propriety meant I could no longer walk into town. During my confinement, Jesse avoided our neighbors more than usual, but occasionally he would visit his uncle George, who taught him to play faro, a card game held in barrooms throughout the city.

  When he had good luck, he’d show me his winnings and crow. “Look at this stack of greenbacks, Zee. Sometimes twisting the tail of a tiger pays off.”

  A keen interest in horses drew him to the track time after time. His activities seemed harmless enough to me, because they meant he’d return home each night. We’d begun to live what I saw as a more normal life. A married couple in a cozy house surrounded by a community that did not question his identity. Yet there were times when I saw him sigh. I knew he missed the people and places back home.

  When I saw Jesse writing a letter to John Newman Edwards, apprehension rippled through me. He penned a passionate condemnation of Alan Pinkerton and what had happened at the farm, including the punishment he predicted would come to Mr. Pinkerton either in this world or the next. Jesse’s hatred for the man still burned hot. I didn’t fault him for his feelings and hoped the letter’s mere publication would be enough to relieve his torment.

  Late summer’s stifling warmth gave me more discomfort than usual. At midday, heat rose in visible waves from a field near our home. On the final day of August, I sat with my feet elevated, fanning myself and sipping a cool cup of water. I was dreaming of autumn days that would soon bring relief when a sudden sharp pain made me gasp aloud. I dropped the cup as warm water gushed from between my legs, running down the chair and onto the floor.

  Jesse came from the kitchen, his forehead grooved with concern.

  “What is it?”

  “I think the baby is ready to come. Can you help me to bed and then go for Dr. Vertrees?”

  Jesse’s face paled and his eyes widened. He helped me to stand, and I paused to look at liquid puddling on the chair and floor.

  “Let me clean this mess first.”

  “Let the devil take care of it. You’re going to bed. John’s out in the barn now. I’ll have him fetch his father.”

  I gasped again as
a vise-like pain doubled me over. Jesse carried me to our bed and laid me on sheets that smelled like sunshine.

  “Please, help me get on my gown.”

  He loosened the ties on my blouse and skirt then helped me pull off the wet garments. My nightgown slid over me, and I sank against the pillows when another pain hit.

  “I’ll be right back,” Jesse said before he raced from the room. My belly cramped again, yet between the spasms, my mind and body rallied with an alertness and energy that had escaped me for weeks. I took a series of deep breaths and prayed.

  When Jesse returned, he took my hand.

  “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

  “It’s not so bad at the moment, but I know it’ll get worse. Once the doctor arrives, you may want to go for a walk. Sometimes babies take a while to come.”

  Another strong pain bore down, stopping me from speaking further. I squeezed Jesse’s hand so hard he winced. He dipped a cloth in the pitcher near our bed and patted my forehead, until someone knocked at the door. Jesse shot an agonized glance at me and then brought Dr. Vertrees to my bedside.

  “All right, Mr. Howard, it’s time for you to leave us to our work. A birthing is no place for a father.”

  Jesse’s face said he wanted nothing more than to do just what the doctor had told him, but he gallantly asked. “Do you want me to stay?”

  “No. I’m fine. Someone will come get you after the baby is here.”

  “I’ll be in the yard,” he told me.

  Dr. Vertrees opened his bag and studied me. “You did the right thing. No husband should witness this. He might fear ever coming near you again.”

  I blushed at his frank words but conceded he was probably right. Men had little stomach for pain or suffering. No wonder it was in God’s plan that it be women who all but tore themselves in two creating new life.