by Rita Hestand
And you’re right. I do owe you.”
“Well, maybe you better hear me out first, before you decide if it suits you or not.” Her voice hardened with renewed anger.
He emptied his cup and pushed it aside. Never had coffee tasted this good.
“How’d you find the place?”
She eyed him a bit longer before answering. “The captain from the prison found it on the map and pointed me in the right direction.” There was a sarcastic twist to her words.
The concerned captain. Was he the father of her child? It would explain why he was so accommodating. “That’s good. I’m glad you came.” He again tried to reach for her hand, but she pulled out of reach.
“No touching,” she reminded him.
He nodded and grimaced. “Okay, no touching.”
“Lastly, you may not want to hear this, but you’re gonna. You see, that’s your baby in there in the bedroom. Furthermore, if something happens to me, I expect you to take care of her. Understand? That’s why I’m here. I thought it only right to tell you.”
Her confession hit him like a rock aimed for the heart. But a very soft rock. His baby? Could it be true? Could she have been with child when he turned her in?
God, it was a dream comes true and yet, a nightmare, too. If it was true, Maggie had every right to hate him.
“M-mine?” he gasped and looked toward the door. When he turned back to her, she nodded.
He stood up and went to look at the sleeping baby on the bed. He mentally counted the months they’d been separated. The baby girl was not much more than a year and half old. She had her mother’s beautiful lips and his nose. He wondered what color her eyes were, wondered so many other things as he stared at her. He went toward the bed and bent to her. She opened her eyes, and they were a dark blue. He gasped. She smiled at him as he kissed her forehead.
“Hello, sweetheart.” He sighed lifting her into his arms. He sat on the edge of the bed and bounced her on his knee. She rubbed her eyes and blinked up at him.
If Maggie only knew how long he’d wanted a family of his own, she wouldn’t have worried about telling him. His heart swelled with pride and happiness, even when he thought of how distant Maggie had been. She’d just given him the best thing she could—part of her. He picked the baby up and carried her into the other room. As he sat at the table, he held her close.
Unspeakable happiness put a grin on his face, something else Maggie
obviously didn’t expect. He looked at his daughter’s shiny black curls hanging down her back, those deep blue eyes, and the sweetest little dimples on each side of her mouth and fell in love all over again.
The baby liked him, too. She didn’t cry or act scared, but responded to his every word. “She’s mine,” he confirmed, beaming.
“No, she’s mine, but you are her father,” Maggie explained. She watched the interplay between them and couldn’t believe her beautiful baby accepted this man
so fast. Then perhaps because she was so naïve, as her mother had been, she trusted. She’d teach her later to be more careful.
“What’s her name?” He watched Abby chuckle from his bouncing her on his knee.
“Abigail Ann Coleman,” Maggie said, feeling the tears welling inside her and the hurt gnawing at her. “Abby for short.”
“Abby. I like that.”
He let the baby down, found her doll on the floor, and handed it to her. She took it, went across the room, and smiled back at him. Shyly.
“She’s beautiful, Maggie, just beautiful. I only wish I’d known.” His voice held wonder.
“Yes, well, they don’t have couriers from prisoners to soldiers, I’m afraid,”
Maggie said dully.
He looked at her seriously. “So now’s the time I say I’m sorry I left you.”
“I don’t expect you to be sorry. No regrets. I don’t want apologies. You had your duty and you did it. It happened.” Her pain reminded her to temper her words. “It’s over.”
“You want to get married?” He eyed her. “That’s the normal thing to do when you have a baby.”
“Married!” she shrieked with indignation, stood up and put her hands on her hips. “This isn’t a normal situation. No, I don’t expect that. Even I couldn’t bring that on you,” she mumbled, wishing she hadn’t decided to come there at all, but knowing she had to.
“Don’t expect it? Why not? You should demand it.” He moved in his chair as though uncomfortable. “I’d like to do the honorable thing and marry you.”
“It’s too late for honor,” she muttered.
“Because you are part black? I don’t care about that. I’ve told you so. That’s no issue with me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go sayin’ that out loud around here. You may not, but others do. Because the war is just over, and people like those men would be even more fired up. And because we don’t need to be married. It ain’t even lawful for a white
man to marry a black woman, I don’t think. We aren’t going to be having each other again,” she stated finally.
“Is that the way you really want it?” His voice was devoid of emotion.
“That’s the way. I only want your protection, and in case of my death, your promise to look after our daughter. Those are my rules.”
“Love has no rules, Maggie, and you know it.”
“You weren’t in love. You were in lust,” she snapped, anger flashing in her chest. “You used me for what you wanted and then you turned me in. That said everything about what you felt.”
“Then so be it. You’re writing a ticket to hell, Maggie. For both of us.”
Chapter Five
That night, he made his bed in the main room by putting the two rockers together. It wasn’t comfortable, but he’d never tell her that. He’d eat dirt before he’d tell her that. He’d asked her to come. Now this. Laying down rules they couldn’t possibly live by. He saw it in her eyes. Despite everything, they still wanted each other. It was in her expression when he looked at her, that same hunger. If he walked into that bedroom and demanded she let him in, what could she say? Of course he knew what she would do. She’d refuse him. He couldn’t blame her for it. He blamed himself. He just had to win her back.
He twisted and turned and finally got up and made a pallet on the floor. After tossing and yanking the blanket this way and that, he went to sleep. Even in sleep though, he thrashed about and called her name. He’d been calling her name for a long time and nothing had changed. She might be in his house, but he’d lost her heart.
He understood her anger. He even recognized how she could have misread his feelings, but the way they made love to each other? That was so special. How could she not at least see that much of it? Did she think he’d touched the few other women he’d had that way? Maybe that’s what she did think, but it wasn’t true. He’d never let his guard down with a woman before. Still, Maggie couldn’t know all that. She’d have to learn it, he reckoned.
Despite the damn rules, there was gladness in his heart he couldn’t explain.
He’d take Maggie on any terms. Just having her with him would be enough. He hoped he could control himself around her. That would be a new experience.
Controlling himself wouldn’t be easy.
Determined to find a way to make things right, he went about his business as usual the next morning. After breakfast he headed to the shed and checked his supplies. He’d stored lumber in it so he could add on to his house when the war was over. All of it lay untouched. He nodded his satisfaction. The baby needed a bed and a room to herself, too. He’d fix her up proper.
At noon, hunger got the better part of him, and he had to go back inside.
Maggie barely acknowledged him, but the tension between them thickened. Jesse had to do something. Under his breath he cursed her rules. She made him some food and fed the baby, but she didn’t look at him or talk to him. He spoke to both of them and tried to act normal, whatever that was.
Miserable, that’s what he w
as. He wanted her in his bed with him. He wanted to make a real family with her and their daughter. Nevertheless, Maggie had to be stubborn. Because he hurt her once, she wouldn’t give him another chance to prove his love to her. God, didn’t she realize they were going to have a big enough struggle ahead of them? He couldn’t prove it, and she wasn’t ready to listen, yet.
He’d give her some time and space and maybe she’d come around. They could get to know each other better. Things had happened too fast up in Arkansas. Time might be the ointment needed to bring her around.
He started making repairs that morning. After four long years of war and a half-year chasing cows, the place lacked a lot of things. He’d go into town and get some supplies once he determined what he needed.
He thought if he stayed away from her till he could figure something out, things would smooth out. However, staying away from her became a problem when she sought him out. She didn’t even look at him. She hung her head as she approached the shed, standing a good distance from him. “I don’t mean to trouble you, but the baby is out of milk, and I didn’t want to go into town. I have no money to purchase it. My milk dried up too fast, she's been on cows’ milk for a while now.”
He nodded. “All right. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll get us a cow. She’ll need her milk for a long while yet, and you can make butter, too. If you’ve a mind. I’ll see Mr. Jenkins. He’s usually got milk cows to spare since he breeds them. If you’ll make me a list of things you need, I’ll see about getting them for you.”
“Thank you.” She started back inside without saying anything more.
“Maggie, it’s not going to work. You know…ignoring me.”
“It’ll work,” she muttered miserably and went into the house.
He watched her walk away, enjoying the view, but hurting from her attitude.
Frustrated with trying to talk to her, he checked the old wagon he had stored in
the barn and hitched it to his horse, then rode over to the Jenkins’s farm about ten miles down the road. A pleasant ride most days.
He took ten fence posts he had gathered that were falling apart without wire.
He aimed to trade mostly for what he needed. He and Mr. Jenkins had always traded. A trust had quickly grown between them. Jenkins and his family had moved in long ago. They had known his folks and watched him grow into a man.
Plowing his cornfield under, Mr. Jenkins waved at him and finished his business. A short, lean man, he had no whiskers but sideburns of white hair crept out from his flop hat. He hadn’t aged a bit, Jesse noted. “Mr. Jenkins, how are you today?”
“Good to see ya this morning. How are ya?” the man asked as though Jesse had never been gone.
“Thought we might be able to do some tradin’.”
“Jest tryin’ to plow my field up. Thought I’d get a early start, yah. What can I do for you, neighbor? Trade you say. Yah, you brought some fence posts.
Vonderful, how did ya know?” He shook Jesse’s hand and smiled.
Jesse got straight to the point. He had limited time to talk, as work on the farm needed his attention. “I need a milk cow. I know you use to breed them. I was wondering if you might have one you could part with. And I’ll need some vegetables if you got any to spare.”
“Shore I do. You be knowin’ that, too. Come along with me. You know how I take stock in the milk cows. Gertrude will suit you fine. She’ll be a good producer.
She’s my best. Say, haven’t you been gone a while?”
Jesse walked up to the barn with him. No one else seemed about this early in the morning. Jesse wondered where his four sons were, but like as not they were in some other field clearing the land for the next year’s crop.
“Yeah, I was in the war. Confederate.” Jesse reminded him.
“Thought so. A Johnny Reb, were ya? Well, I’m glad you’re back. So you need a milkin’ cow, huh?” The old man peered at him. “I didn’t believe in that war, ya know. Did my best to stay away from it. Course when the army comes ridin’ up in your yard, it’s hard to ignore ‘em. Don’t know if it done any good or not. Lot’s of killin’, and for what? Works out that way a lot, son. They freed the slaves then
didn’t do anything about ‘em. Didn’t give them jobs, didn’t give them a place to live. Seems like we’re right back where we started. Just freed them. What good did that do? Now, the politicians will bicker about the cotton and shipping and wage war on taxes and stuff and it will still be the same, yah.”
“Yes, sir, you’re probably right.” Jesse hoped he wouldn’t ask why he suddenly needed a milk cow.
“Got yourself a woman and a babe, I hear.” Jenkins chuckled. “’Bout time.
Good fer you.”
“News traveled fast. How’d you know?”
“My son Ben saw her hangin’ up diapers the other day outside, as I sent him over to Nickleville fer some supplies.”
“Nickelville. Why there? Why not Greenville or better yet, Bright Star? Why go so far out of your way?”
“Greenville’s got troubles of their own, what with a politician trying to scare up the war again. The Federals done moved in there, and it’s hard to get supplies in and out. Reckon I’ll wait till things settle down there first.”
“Federals, huh?”
“Yep. Don’t like goin’ into Bright Star that much. They ain’t got everything I like. There’s a Swede over to Nickelville. I like trading with him. Been to Duck Creek, but they haven’t got much in dry goods. Anyways, Ben said your wife was a looker, too.” Mr. Jenkins chuckled. “That’s good news, son. You’re plenty old enough to start a family. Glad ta see ya settlin’ down with a brood of your own.”
Mr. Jenkins had come from the old country of Sweden and once in a while his speech reflected it. He was a fair-minded man and wouldn’t care that Maggie was part black. It seemed that Swedes took a different look at it all. Others in the area wouldn’t be so open-minded; it would be asking too much. However, Mr. Jenkins would spread the word thinking everyone would be happy for him, too. There was no way of stopping it. People would learn about Maggie and Abby soon enough.
He just had to figure how to deal with it.
Rather than go into details, Jesse didn’t correct him on the matter of marriage, but it bothered him greatly on the ride home with the cow. Did Maggie understand that all hell was about to break loose soon? No, how could she? She
didn’t know that he’d made up his mind…they were getting married. He was about to make local history, marrying a black woman.
He’d been thinking of his new family ever since he found out he had one. He had to make things right somehow. Marriage seemed the only way. He loved her and that wouldn’t be changing. He loved the baby, too. In fact, now that he thought of it, he was going to make a very good father. He’d never had a kid before, but the experience excited him. He took to the baby right away. Abby was not only a big part of Maggie, she was part of him, too. And he didn’t need to be told to protect her. His own instincts had kicked in the minute he realized the big-eyed toddler was his baby. His baby—God, that sounded good. Still, he knew Maggie didn’t want him getting too close to her daughter, and he wondered how he was ever going to straighten her out. The beautiful woman hadn’t forgiven him for turning her in…yet. He had to re-win her trust and her love. Problem being, he didn’t know how to go about it. A lot of men wouldn’t try, but those men didn’t know what a prize Maggie would be. He did.
Abby sat happily playing in the yard as her mother did another load of wash, this time the sheets and linens. She had managed to clean everything in the cabin, and the sweet smell proved it. The place never looked better. She was even sewing some curtains for the windows.
As he arrived with Gertrude following behind, Maggie saw the cow and ran toward him. Jesse silently drew a breath. Seeing a smile on her face melted the coldness in his chest. Just to see her happy again made his heart grow light.
“That’s a fine looking cow,” she remarked as he brough
t Gertrude into the barn. She followed him, and Abby hung on to her side.
Seeing the woman he loved in britches made his loins tighten. Somehow he had to get used to it. He didn’t need to be thinking those thoughts. How could he convince her he truly loved her if all he talked about was her beauty? No, he had to find another way to impress Maggie. “Her name is Gertrude, and she likes you to warm your hands before you milk her, Mr. Jenkins said.” Jesse kept his gaze away from her beautiful curves.
“Gertrude. All right. We’ll take very good care of her. She’s a prize,” Maggie said, her hand going over the cow’s rump. “Who is Mr. Jenkins?”
“Our closest and best neighbor. He’s a Swede. He lives over the hill yonder about ten miles. You can milk a cow, can’t you?” Jesse asked, not looking at her.
“Of course I can milk!”
“Good.” Jesse left them both in the barn to tend to more chores he had on his list. “Oh, and there’s an old Negro man that lives the other direction, but he don’t socialize much with white folks, says it’s indecent. So I leave him alone like he wants. I’ll bet that old man is close to a hundred, but he don’t act it.”
He turned and studied at her for a moment, reacting physically to Maggie. He frowned. “Mr. Jenkins assumed you are my wife, so don’t bother settin’ him straight. It takes too long to explain anything so complicated to the Jenkinses.
They mean us no harm though.”
Maggie firmed her lips. “Did you tell him we were?”
“Nope, I said he assumed, Maggie.” Jesse’s jaw tightened.
“You should have told him the truth. My God, don’t you realize they might arrest you or me or both of us, and then what would happen to Abby?” Maggie came closer.
“Look.” Jesse’s control hung on a tight leash, and he wondered how long he could bite the bullet and not say something he’d be sorry for later. “There will be trouble no matter what. You might as well face it, whether we are married or not, people will assume you are my woman, and rightly so because that baby is mine.