Owen Family Saga Box Set: Books 1-3

by Ward, Marsha

  James turned the other way in bed.

  I want a family forever, he thought. Amparo’s taught me that. A cold wave raised bumps on his skin as it passed through him from head to toe. I want a family, a wife to give me children, a woman I can love as I’ve loved before. Not someone to replace Amparo—no one can take her place. I need someone to stand by my side and share the rest of my life.

  Jessie’s face loomed before his mind’s eye. He sighed deeply, recalling the passion he’d once felt for her. I surely was a lustful young stallion. Six little beans! I hurt Jessie so bad by leaving her behind in the Shenandoah. Another sigh quivered through his frame. If I’d stayed, I’d likely be a father now. A knot of regret wrapped around his heart. He licked his lips. I want a livin’, breathin’ passel of kids I can hold in my arms, teaching ‘em how to rope and gentle a horse, and comforting ‘em when they fall down. I want Jessie there, birthin’ ‘em, motherin’ ‘em, kissing their skinned knees and … He held his breath until he felt dizzy, then exhausted the air from his lungs and took in a great, shivering chest full of air. Kissing me in the night. I want Jessie back, and Ned Heizer can go—

  Mules tales! He didn’t want to swear, now that he’d got God’s forgiveness for his sins, but the thought of Ned Heizer holding Jessie in his arms made his head feel near to exploding. I may not be good enough to kiss Jessie’s little finger, but I’m a danged sight better for her than Ned Yankee Heizer.

  A resolve started to grow in him, a commitment to make things right with Jessie, to somehow show her the depth of his affection. He had to turn her heart away from Ned. He had to make her love him again.

  Chapter 36

  James scouted the trail ahead of the wagons, keeping a sharp eye on the sky as it grew dark with heavy clouds. The wind began to rise, cold and fierce, gusting against him and the horse, and threatening to push them off the trail. He tied his neck scarf over his hat to keep it in place and pulled gloves from his pocket. Then he turned the sorrel’s head out of the wind and started back toward the small train.

  George rode out from the wagons, his eyes dark slits in his face. By the time the two met, the wind was howling, and flakes of snow were swirling around their heads, dusting the shoulders of their coats.

  “What’s up ahead? We need a campground.”

  “There ain’t a good, sheltered spot, except …” James stopped shouting for a moment, adjusting his collar.

  “Except what?” George held on to his hat with one hand and kept a firm grip with the other on the reins of his dancing horse.

  “Down a piece there’s a big Mexican outfit, a hacienda, my wife called it. They’re good folks.” James’s muscles tensed as he awaited George’s response.

  George frowned. “Mexicans? Are they honest?”

  “Don Pedro is a big landowner and a kind, decent man.” James covered his lower face with his hand and breathed into it to warm his nose and mask his dismay at George’s prejudicial attitude. “He helped me out once.”

  “I reckon we can’t be choosy in a storm like this.”

  “No.” His voice was flat as he continued. “We don’t dare be choosy.”

  “Lead the way.” Luke was driving the first wagon, and George turned around to inform the boy about the change of plans.

  James headed his horse straight into the wind, fighting it as it wheeled around to escape the icy blast. “Hi! Get up there, horse!” he muttered. “You’ll be in a nice warm stable soon.” He slapped the sorrel on the flank. The animal bucked a bit, but it was weary, and James was determined, so it soon followed his direction and continued along the road. A popping sound drew his attention, the impact of the horse’s hooves striking the frozen snow.

  A few minutes later, James turned the tiring horse into the lee of a small stand of trees where a trail left the road. The shelter wasn’t enough for all the wagons, and James didn’t dare stop. Luke drove his team in James’s wake, and the other two wagons followed.

  The temperature fell rapidly as the snow swirled around in the icy wind, leaving the ground white in some places and bare in others. George rode forward and told James he was going to spell his wife at driving the team.

  “Mrs. Heizer can’t feel her hands. How much further do we have to go?”

  “I ain’t been to the house, George, but I reckon it can’t be too distant.”

  “Well, keep us on the trail. If this wind dies down, the snow will cover the path.”

  James barked a laugh. “It would be warmer, though.” He could feel the hairs in his nostrils freezing stiff in the cold, and he covered his nose with his hand for a moment. His old wounds ached, and he rubbed his side. “Go take care of your wife,” he said, and George rode back to the wagons.

  James moved closer to the first wagon and used a rope end to chivvy the lead horses onward. “Luke!” he called out. “Use your whip, boy. We got to get out of this storm.”

  The boy nodded, handed the lines to his sister, and turned to get his whip from the wagon box. Jessie slapped the lines on the rumps of the horses, and James called out, “Hi! Giddap! Hey!” to the horses before he went ahead to pick out the trail.

  Fifteen minutes later, the half-frozen travelers arrived at the arched gateway to the Chaves headquarters. James dismounted to open the wrought iron gate. It screeched as he pushed it aside. When all three wagons had passed through, he closed the gate, got back into the saddle, and rode up the white lane behind the wagons.

  When the wagons stopped before the long, low adobe buildings, he approached the house. Don Pedro Chaves stood on his porch out of the storm, bundled in a bearskin coat.

  James got off his horse.

  “I know you, yes?” Don Pedro asked when James approached.

  “Yes, sir. I’m James Owen. I was in Santa Fe some weeks back.” He took off his right glove and held out his hand.

  The older man’s face lit up as he recognized the name as well as the face, and he extended his hand to James. “Oh yes, yes.” He shook hands with warm regard. “At La Fonda.” Don Pedro craned his neck to look at the people getting out of the wagons. “Tell me, where is your dear wife?”

  James made a harsh sound. “She met with a…bad…accident,” he said, pain pinching his voice. “She died in Trinidad.”

  “No!” Don Pedro crossed himself. “That cannot be!”

  James plunged ahead, ignoring his rising grief. “This is the Bingham family and their kin. I’m taking them to Albuquerque.” James gestured at the Binghams. “Can we shelter here?”

  “¡Cómo no! Yes, of course! Please, bring your friends inside.”

  “Thank you.” James turned to the family. “He says we’re welcome. Go ahead in. I’ll look after the stock.”

  “No, joven, my men will see to them. You are frozen. Please enter. Tell me of your misfortune. ¡Ay! Such a young girl to die!” He crooked a finger and gave an order to the man who appeared, and the servant hurried off to do Don Pedro’s bidding.

  ~~~

  Jessie stumbled down the wagon wheel. Her fingers were numb. She couldn’t feel her toes. Would she ever be warm again? She shuddered as she approached the covered porch, rubbing her fists along her arms, trying to regain feeling in them.

  Her first sight of the man who stood greeting James made her open her eyes wide. Although he must be very old because his hair was silver, his brown face bore few deep wrinkles. He carried himself straight and tall, almost like a general, she imagined. She couldn’t sense any malice in the man, for he smiled and made gestures of welcome to her mother, clearly inviting her inside the house. Mighty gracious of him, she thought.

  When everyone was out of the storm, the man stood beside the roaring fire in a massive fireplace and spoke to the party in accented but formal English.

  “I am Pedro Chaves, Peter Chaves in English. Everyone calls me Don Pedro. Welcome to my humble home. It is at your service for anything you will need. Come to the fire, ladies. Get warm.” He turned to James and beckoned toward the women. “Now, wh
o are these lovely ladies, Mr. Owen?”

  James made introductions, including the men of the party, as well as Luke. Don Pedro turned to Mrs. Bingham. “Señora, my wife and the cooks will have a meal ready very soon. May they bring you hot chocolate?”

  Jessie watched as Ma’s look of apprehension fled, replaced by astonishment. “Chocolate! My lands, Mr. Chaves, it has been years since I tasted chocolate! You are very kind, sir.”

  “It is nothing, señora, a small token to offer my guests.” He motioned to a leather armchair in front of the hearth. “Please, sit and warm yourself.”

  “Thank you, sir. Girls, come around and thank Mr. Chaves for his generosity.”

  Heppie went and made a curtsey, and Hannah nodded to the man as she held her baby close. Jessie hesitated and glanced around. James had stepped back to allow the women to approach Mr. Chaves. Ned and the other men ranged themselves at the back of the group. How did James know this man?

  Jessie put away the question to ponder later and stepped forward. She thrust out her hand to shake his like a man would do and said, “Thank you, sir. We appreciate your hospitality.”

  Don Pedro took her hand and shook it, grinning broadly. “You are most welcome.”

  Jessie smiled, ducked her head, and turned away. The man’s openhandedness puzzled her. Why’s he bein’ so kind to us? We showed up unannounced and unexpected. How did he come to know James? As she wiggled the questions around in her brain, Jessie moved over to stand beside her mother, who had sat down in an armchair.

  Jessie rubbed her hands together and looked around the room. Hannah and Heppie were seated on stools close to the fireplace. George knelt on one knee beside Heppie, spreading his hands to the fire’s warmth. Across the room, Don Pedro gestured toward a leather couch, and Robert and James took seats on it.

  Jessie felt a touch on her elbow. She turned her head to meet Ned’s gaze.

  “Are you getting warm?” he asked. “I worried that your fingers would get frostbit, not having gloves.”

  Jessie looked at her hands and waggled her fingers. “I reckon they’re doing fine,” she said. “Still a mite cold, but I’ve got feeling in them now. I was worried when they were numb.”

  Ned took Jessie by the elbows and turned her around to face him. He cupped his hands around one of hers and chafed it. “This will take the chill off, honeybunch,” he said.

  Jessie allowed him to rub her hands, first one, then the other, and back to the first. He moved his hands up her arm, and she felt a twinge of uneasiness. Ned was being overly friendly, especially with her mother sitting right there beside them.

  “Ned,” she murmured. “Leave off. I’m all warm now.”

  One of the corners of his mouth moved slightly downward. He opened it as though he were going to reply, but closed it again and dropped his hands from her arm. He nodded, and said, “As you wish.”

  Jessie rolled her eyes toward her mother, hoping he would take a hint. She wasn’t sure Ma could see what Ned had been doing, with Jessie between them, but the touch of his fingers on her upper arms had unsettled her. Yes, she had promised to marry Ned, but that didn’t mean he was permitted to become so familiar. He probably wanted to kiss her, but she hadn’t allowed that intimacy. Only one man had kissed her, and— She put her hand to her lips. Only James Owen. She looked behind her. James sat on the couch across the room, his fingers twisting against his thighs. She could tell he wasn’t listening to Don Pedro or Robert. He looked up, meeting her eyes.

  She turned her head, feeling guilty as she pushed away her tumbling thoughts. She shuddered, aware of Ned’s concerned eyes on her. Glancing sideways, she caught sight of a stool like the ones her sisters sat upon. She took a breath and smiled brightly up at the man who would be her husband.

  “Ned, will you draw up that stool for me? I’m a bit weary.”

  “Of course,” he said, and went to do her bidding. She bit her lip. How can I forget about James Owen? He’s always nearby. She rubbed a cold spot on her arm. How am I ever going to make a life with Ned if James stays on in Albuquerque?

  Ned put the stool at her feet and Jessie sank onto it. The leather seat had absorbed warmth from the room, and the heat felt comforting through her skirt and undergarments. “Thank you.”

  He settled down cross-legged on the floor beside her and jerked his head in acknowledgement of her thanks.

  Words jumped out of Jessie’s mouth when she noticed that Don Pedro and the other men had stood up. “Why is that man being so good to us?” She took a sharp breath, annoyed at herself for letting her thought free.

  Ned looked surprised, then scowled. “He seems friendly with Mr. Owen. Maybe he owes him a favor.”

  Jessie shrugged. “I reckon there’s no way of knowing.”

  “Honeybunch.” Ned reached up and put his hand on her arm. “You appear puzzled at Mr. Pedro’s kindness, but I reckon he won’t do us any harm.”

  “I wasn’t worried about harm coming to us. He’s mighty generous to a pack of strangers.”

  James left the room, following a servant man. She yanked her eyes away from him, focusing on her betrothed.

  Ned patted Jessie’s arm. “Don’t go twisting your brains into a knot, honeybunch. Sit there all comfy cozy, soak up the warm air, and quit thinking so hard.”

  Honeybunch? Is Ned going to call me honeybunch all our lives? Jessie shuddered. I don’t like that pet name.

  “You’re shivering. Shall I rub your arms again?” Ned asked.

  “No, no, I’m fine.” She folded her arms across her chest. Honeybunch? James never called me that. He had more sense. Drat! Why am I thinkin’ about James again? She put her hand to her forehead and rubbed a spot above her right eyebrow. Jessie, you hate and despise James Owen. Because of that, you gave your word to Ned to marry him, and that’s all you need to think about. She stopped rubbing her face, looked down at Ned, and gave him half a smile. I reckon we’ll do as well as most folks, pulling in the same harness, as long as he doesn’t call me honeybunch!

  ~~~

  James sat at Don Pedro’s invitation and looked at the other side of the room. Ned stood close to Jessie, chafing first one hand, then the other between his own. His hands wandered up her forearms, rubbing circulation back into them. Each intimate gesture felt like it drove a thorn into James’s flesh. He wanted to leap up, cross the room, knock Ned Heizer on his backside, and take Jessie away from him.

  This is how Carl felt, watching Ellen and me. A jolt of fire flashed through James’s veins at the thought of the woman who had been betrothed to him, and had married his brother. I tried so hard to forget Jessie, to learn to love Ellen. He looked at his hands, twisted together against his legs. I should have seen the way of it and given her up to Carl with a bit of grace. Now I’ve lost Jessie to a Yankee. No, worse than a Yankee. A Virginia turncoat.

  Don Pedro said something to him, but James couldn’t tear himself away from his thoughts to answer. He looked across at the folks arranged around the fireplace once more. He realized Jessie’s eyes were fixed on him, and he felt a rush of blood into his head. She don’t love him. She gave him a promise, but she don’t love him. Just like Ellen promised to wed me, not givin’ me her love with her word. The bitter irony hit him like a physical blow, and he rocked backward in his seat. Grim truth took possession of his soul. Jessie don’t love him, but she’s wary of me. I hurt her when I left her behind. Pa set me up to marry Ellen and I lost her to Carl, but later I did marry someone. A gal I didn’t yet love. He swallowed down the gall that had risen in his throat as he listed his sins against Jessie.

  Now Don Pedro and Robert had risen to their feet, and James scrambled to stand.

  “Gentlemen, you are weary. I am selfish to keep you from your beds.” He addressed himself to a servant who had come into the hall. “Ramón, are the fires lit?”

  “Sí, señor. Todo está listo,” said the man, and James mentally translated his words as assent. But he remembered listo as signifying bright or quick.
That couldn’t be right.

  He screwed up his courage and asked, “Don Pedro, what does listo mean?”

  “Ah joven, it can mean clever, but Ramón intends to say that all things are in readiness. If you will go with him, my young friend, he will take you to a sleeping room.” He turned to Robert. “Please, if you will wait a moment longer, Ramón will bring you, your señora, and your little one to another.” He turned back to include James. “We have many rooms here in the hacienda. We don’t often have the opportunity to fill them with guests. This occasion is a great joy to me.” He put out his hand and shook with James. “Thank you for coming.”

  As James followed Ramón down the long corridor, his thoughts turned to the girl he’d married. Amparo, I came to love you dearly. What Brother Jeff told us gave me a lot of comfort. There’s a way I can be with you again when I’m dead. But girl, there’s something you got to understand. I’m still alive, and I want Jessie!

  Ramón opened a door and ushered James into a small bedroom with a fire burning at one end. He bowed slightly to James and left the room.

  James went right to the bedstead and put his war bag down beside it. He stood above the bed, remembering how he’d thought his life was at an end when Amparo died. His body stiffened at the remembrance of laying her to rest. That ordeal was over, he reminded himself. Now, because of the new ideas he’d accepted, he could go on living. He could have hope.

  I’ll need to win Jessie back, he decided, and thought of how he’d gotten her to love him before. His cramped shoulders gradually loosened as he recalled the sweet days of courting Jessie, singing to her on the swing in her folks’ backyard, kissing each one of her fingers between verses of his love songs. How long had it been since he’d raised his voice in song?

  “I sang to Pa’s Texas cows,” he said aloud. “I never sang to Ellen, nor to Amparo, but I sang to those dim-witted cows.”

  He sank to his knees to offer up his nightly prayer, asking for calm in his soul and for a way to gain back Jessie’s trust so he could win her from Ned.