Love Rules

by Rita Hestand

  “Girl, what you trying to pull? It’s unheard of. Working for an unmarried white man. Only trash would do that. And I know what kind, too.”

  Maggie grabbed Abby closer at the threatening tone. “I’m to work for him. This really isn’t any of your business. All I wanted was directions.”

  The old man stared at her as though she didn’t deserve even the water he had given her. “I don’t see that in your eyes. I see somethin’ else.” The old man’s bushy brows nearly crossed as he frowned.

  “Look, I need a place for me and my little girl.” She adjusted Abby’s position on her hip as she stood up, and she hid her embarrassment.

  “I’d say she probably had a white daddy, didn’t she?” The old man stared at them both with interest.

  “It ain’t none of your business.” Maggie hugged her daughter close as she backed toward the door. “All I wanted was some direction, that’s all. Why you gotta go puttin’ you nose where it don’t belong, old man?”

  “She’s his, ain’t she?” the old man said, his judgmental stare traveling from her feet to the top of her hair.

  “Yes, she’s his. Okay, is that what you want to hear? I want nothing from you, but a little information, that’s all. I come a long ways and we are very tired,”

  Maggie cried, unable to deny the truth to this all-seeing black man. Abby whimpered as the old man eyed her again.

  “You done mixed yourself with a white man?” the Negro asked, his distaste in his words.

  “Why not? I’m part white, too,” she cried. “I didn’t choose a color, I chose the man. Well, stop lookin’ at me. I am part white, and so is she, and he’s gonna take care of us.”

  “You bringing misery on yourself and that man.” The man stood up and turned his back to her. “Where you from, girl? Don’t you know black and white ain’t supposed to mix?”

  “Well, someone should have told my folks. It was done mixed before I came along. Besides…where else can I go? Ain’t no black man gonna have me

  either…are there? You know that. I got white blood, too.”

  “Not after you done had a white man, no ma’am. There’s only one woman I know of that’s that low, that’s the Black Widow. We heard tell she hung. Or did she?” His eyes got big and wide as Maggie opened the door.

  Maggie cringed. As long as she’d heard that expression, she hadn’t been able to deal with it correctly. Black Widow? Would the name follow her everywhere? She hated it. Shame had plagued her thoughts for the remainder of the war, and guilt was a hard companion. “Thanks for your help. I gotta go.” She escaped out the door before the man said or did another thing.

  The old man came to stand on the porch. “Misery, that’s what you brought.

  Misery!” he shouted at her.

  Maggie felt hot tears spill down her cheeks. Blame and fear mixed as she tried to reason things in her head. “Where can we go in peace, baby? All I want is some peace, just to live out my life with you.” Abby sat happily in front of her, pointing to the birds that flew in a line in the sky. “Now, that old man knows we’re here.”

  Hopefully he wouldn’t stir up troubles for her, too. She certainly didn’t need any more. The memories of her killing an ex-soldier just two days before weighed on her mind, a man determined to see her dead. Why couldn’t they leave her alone? She meant no one any harm. She just wanted to find a home for herself and her baby. She hadn’t wanted to shoot him, hadn’t wanted to kill him, but he had a gun and intended to kill Abby, so she pulled the trigger. Sure, she’d made some mistakes and paid for them, too, but to most she’d not suffered enough.

  They wanted her blood.

  When Maggie spotted Jesse’s place, it looked deserted. She sighed. Her heart heavy, what with that old man accusing her of all kinds of nasty things like shacking up with Jesse, having his baby, living in sin, and talking like Jesse might be dead.

  She shaded her eyes. The cabin was good-sized with a barn and shed beside it.

  Pecan and oak stood majestically around the place, making it even homier. She rode up slowly, searching for some sign that it belonged to Jesse. No one lived there and hadn’t for a while.

  There was a well out front and the chain sighed with the breeze. The sound caught Maggie off-guard and she jumped, and then smiled at herself for being so frightened. “We need some rest, baby. I’m jumpin’ like a grasshopper.”

  Settling there would be taking a big chance, the only chance she and Abby had.

  She glanced down at her baby. Abby had fallen asleep over the saddle horn.

  They’d been traveling for days; but the little one had been so good. Thank goodness they had found it. “This is our new home, baby. For as long as it lasts.”

  Her heart felt weary with traveling so long and taking care of Abby and defending herself. After she’d killed the soldier, she did a lot of watching over her shoulder.

  Jesse had invited her to his home, and he owed her, whether he realized it or not.

  Dismounting, she glanced about. The cabin seemed big, the barn stable and the shed full of things. North Texas was a beautiful area, no town for miles. Just wide open spaces, with land as far as the eye could see. This would be their new place. Empty like a robin’s nest, but before she went to making herself to home, she’d find something that said it was Coleman land. She couldn’t just squat anywhere, and until Jesse returned, she’d be nothing less than a squatter, and anyone could throw her out.

  Lifting Abby from the saddle, she cradled her in her arms as she kicked the door open to the cabin. A musty smell greeted her, so she opened the doors and windows to let the fresh air in. Sunlight flooded the old house.

  Maggie glanced about the room, not knowing what to expect, and not

  expecting much. There were a couple of rocking chairs in the front room. Dusty, but they still rocked. The kitchen blended into it, a table sat off to the side with two nearly broken chairs. A door led to the only bedroom. Maggie kicked it open and looked inside.

  A bed awaited her darling daughter who was still asleep in her arms. She laid her down on the sheets that smelled of must and kissed her on the forehead. “You were such a good baby through all of this, such a good baby.”

  The bed wasn’t high but she tucked several pillows around her so she wouldn’t roll off. Dust coated the room, and a dresser held a mirror upright. A five-dollar gold piece adorned the top. Nothing more. Somehow Maggie expected a more homey touch to Jesse’s place. However, the cabin looked barren. It needed a woman’s touch. She opened the top drawer and found her proof. There in the corner of the dresser drawer lay a photograph of Jesse and maybe a brother. They favored one another. She’d know Jesse anywhere and it confirmed she had the Coleman ranch. She stared down at the picture, and a warm feeling moved through her as she kissed Jesse. Only to herself could she admit that her love for him remained just as strong as the day she’d met him. She glanced at his daughter and smiled. She had a part of him. That would be enough.

  “You’ll never know I did that, for things will be much different if you return.”

  She patted the picture. “I didn’t come here to cause trouble, but to get out of trouble. Surely they won’t follow me here.”

  She stared down at her daughter and smiled. “We’re home. For as long as it lasts.”

  Assured the baby was asleep, she went outside to get a satchel and brought it in. Then realizing how thirsty she’d become, she went to draw a bucket of water.

  The water was cool and tasty, and she brought it inside so Abby could have some when she woke.

  The satchel contained what little she and Abby had to share in life. A few clothes, a few personal things. That was all, no luxuries, no frills. The well-worn saddlebags she brought contained what was left of their food. She’d made Abby a couple of dresses, and there was a good pack of diapers she cut herself and folded. Abby wet the bed at night sometimes, so soon Maggie would make her pretty pantaloons to wear.

  Jesse’s home was a much better place tha
n the shack she had endured during the war. The rafters of the roof were solid, no holes staring at her. The cabin stood strong and sturdy against the elements. It had a real floor and a private

  bedroom. It was much better than the cold prison cell she’d endured for a short while before the war ended. She didn’t want to think about the prison, any more.

  She was out, and that was in the past. She and Abby would start a new life, a good life.

  She looked about the place. There was an outhouse out back and a chamber pot under the bed for cold winter nights. Except for overnight, Maggie was potty trained early, not even two yet. Her little girl took direction so easy.

  Being a mother came naturally to Maggie, and she became very proud of her beautiful baby with dark blue eyes, but part of the hatred came because of Abby.

  Everyone could see how her eyes were blue, and the paleness of her skin, they knew Maggie had been with a white man.

  Too tired to eat, she lay down beside her baby and went to sleep. The same dream haunted her almost every night, a dream about Jesse and her making a family and living out their lives there on his ranch. It was foolish, but that’s what dreams were, foolishness.

  Morning brought reality and she began to see things differently. Being in Jesse’s cabin finally brought home the fact that the dreams would never happen.

  For what she intended would seal her own fate. She had three rules that Jesse would have to live by should he return. First he couldn’t have her, second, he would protect her from the ex-soldiers that swore they’d hunt her down and kill her, and third, if she died, Jesse would raise their baby.

  She reckoned he wouldn’t like any of his options. Moreover, he might even try to throw her out, but deep down in his heart he was a good man. She could never have felt the way she had about him, without him being a good man.

  She fed the baby the last of the milk she’d bought from a farmer along the way and ate beef jerky while she looked about the cabin. It had most of the essentials, nothing fancy but it would do. However, somehow she needed to stock the cupboards with food.

  How would she provide for Abby until Jesse showed up? Could she march into town and try to buy her provisions, letting everyone know who she was and where she lived? She didn’t think so. Besides, her money was scarce and she had to make it last.

  She knew how to lay traps, how to catch animals. She’d tend to that quickly after they ate. She sighed heavily. Not having had a drop of coffee made moving about this early painful. The sun hadn’t even risen. Still, there had been no coffee since before the war.

  She went outside, holding Abby’s hand as she walked about.

  Suddenly, an old Indian man appeared out of nowhere. He studied her from atop his horse, a fine looking paint, Maggie noted silently. His face was old and wrinkled but his eyes were alert, and he carried nothing but a long spear. He set the weapon into the ground and stared at her for a long moment. Dressed in buckskins and mocs, he wore a green feather in his hair. His hair hung in long, gray braids and his dark eyes assessed her for many moments. Maggie swallowed hard and approached him, standing just a few feet from him. He said nothing.

  Maggie looked about and saw no one else came with him as relief washed over her.

  “What do you want?” she asked bravely in a tone that sounded commanding.

  At first he didn’t answer. Just stared at her and Abby. “You got jerky?”

  Maggie hadn’t expected a question like that, nor that this Indian spoke English. The man spoke as though he had known her all along. “Jerky?” She frowned.

  “Trade for black dust.” He held out a small sack in his hand to her.

  “Black dust?” she murmured. She pulled Abby to her hip, opened the sack, and smelled it. The aroma stirred her senses, and she smiled. “Black dust, huh? Sure, wait. I’d love to trade with you.”

  Maggie couldn’t believe her good fortune. The old Indian wanted to trade coffee. Maggie looked to the heavens. “Thank you, Lord. Just glad I saved some meat back.”

  She wouldn’t dare ask the Indian where he got it, or how. The fact that he had it and wanted to trade was enough for her.

  He said nothing more, as she ran to get a small supply of jerky from her saddlebags inside the cabin. She came running out and handed it to up to him.

  “This is a good trade. Did you know that?”

  “Humph.” He started to kick his heels into the horse, but hesitated. “I am Lame Runner.” He sat taller in the saddle, as though very proud. He bit into the dried beef and pulled hard. “I trade with you many times. Good jerky.” He smiled and left as quietly as he’d come.

  Maggie couldn’t contain her joy. She laughed out loud. “Oh, baby, this is a miracle. Do you know what he brought Mama? He brought coffee, real coffee. I can’t wait to have some. It’s been years since I had coffee, and it smells fresh, too.

  I wonder where he got it?”

  Maggie danced Abby around in the air. The baby giggled gleefully.

  A sudden dust storm kicked up and forced them back to the cabin. Maggie bolted the door and windows, made coffee, and happily spun about with her daughter, the aroma filling the entire cabin. Coffee. It was a dream come true, an answered prayer!

  Stranded inside for most of the day, she decided to begin her cleaning jaunt.

  She would make the place livable again. She put her daughter down and handed her the rag doll. Abby took it to the middle of the room, plopped down on the floor and jabbered to the toy.

  Maggie sat watching her baby, content to finally be somewhere she could stay for a while. Satisfied with so many things there in Jesse’s home as well. The bed fit, she had coffee, and she’d found some lye soap to clean the cabin. Her baby happily played on the floor, in full view of her mother.

  Maggie grinned; Abby seemed so happy, as though she belonged. Scoffing at her imaginings, she sipped her coffee while her mind flitted from one thing then to another. Funny how after the rebels left the fort and a Federal army moved in, there was all the difference in the world at how they treated her for the most part, and they were all good to Abby. She might have had an easier time of it if she’d gone north, but she knew no one in the North, and she wanted to see Jesse again.

  He had a daughter, and he should know it.

  Maggie looked around and decided to clean. She pumped water at the sink and after a long, dry gurgle, it finally spewed forth. Before she got started though, she found an old rug in the bedroom and crammed it against the door at the floor so the dust couldn’t get back in. No use cleaning if the dust flew right back at her. It

  took most of the day to make the cabin decent, but by nightfall there was a better smell about the place.

  Hot and muggy, Maggie became uncomfortable in her velvet blue dress. It was a dress that Louisa had given her after Abby was born, and Maggie had cried when she first tried it on. However, it wasn’t a practical dress to work in, and she was in for more work, so she went to the bedroom. She had little to wear that appeared respectable. She pulled out her slip then went to the closet to see if Jesse had anything she might use. There was a pair of pants, almost new. Pulling them out, she got out her scissors and cut the legs off, then measured them on her. Jesse was almost as slender as she was except in the waist, but she made up for it in the seat of the pants. She smiled. They would do. She could tie them up with rope or string.

  Then she picked up the slip and cut it shorter, so she could wear it as a top.

  Maybe it was indecent, but it would be a lot cooler. She could handle that easily enough. She snipped, sewed the hem, and changed into the jeans and slip. It was definitely cooler.

  Satisfied she had a work outfit, she hung her dress in the closet next to Jesse’s few clothes. She couldn’t stop herself from touching an old shirt, running her fingers along it. She closed her eyes and breathed his name, like a prayer.

  “Little by little,” Maggie told Abby that evening as they curled up on the bed, “we’ll whip this place into shape. We’ll mak
e it shine, just you wait and see.

  Mama’s got lots of work to do, baby.” Maggie smiled at the baby.

  Abby cooed and smiled back, clapping her hands together. What a joy having a daughter had been for her and now that she was almost two and could say a few words, she was a lot of company, too.

  ***

  Texas looked good to Jesse when the last remnants of the war were over and he took a cow-punching job. There was no rush to get home, no one was waiting for his return, and he needed some money for his place.

  The fact that the South lost became of little consequence. He’d fought alongside his friends and neighbors. He’d seen a lot of them die, and needed an end to it all. Since he’d been punching cattle, the war had dimmed in his mind.

  All he could think about was his place.

  He’d taken a drover job for a couple of seasons and made a little pocket money so he could fix his place up when he returned. He was content, seeing the place from a distance. Quietness stirred him as he came over the hill and saw his cabin still standing as he’d left it. However, it struck him cold how lonely he felt. He’d heard others talk of going home to their wives and girlfriends, but he had none.

  The only one he wanted might even be dead, and that thought speared through his heart.

  During the war, he’d faced many obstacles—freezing temperatures, little ammunition, marching, and trying to outsmart the Federals turned out to be a lot harder than he’d bargained for. His clothes had been ragged, and he’d spent the first of his hard-earned money investing in a decent pair of pants and shirt and vest. He’d bought a new hat, too.

  Many of his friends were killed during the war. Yet he had been one of the lucky ones. He had a place to come to. Some of his friends lost their homes during the war, and Jesse thought on that. It made him sad for them. Fighting a war and then coming back to nothing would be intolerable. Although he’d been lucky through the war, a strange loneliness plagued him. There was no one to enjoy it with. His mind had flitted to Maggie many times during the remainder of the war. He held her memory close to his heart and on the worst days and nights, he thought of her. Even once wounded in the leg, he dreamed of no one but Maggie. He couldn’t get her out of his mind or heart. Truly, he’d fallen in love with her, and there would be no replacement. How can one replace perfection?