"I think about you like that too, Missy and I can last forever." His lips played with hers.
His hands went to the inside of her overalls again and he squeezed gently, she was hot and wet for his touch, her body throbbed as he touched her tenderly. "This is yours." he said and pressed himself into her. She sighed happily against him, one leg rising to rub against him sensuously.
"Hmm…I’m so happy. I’m always so happy when I’m in your arms."
"You are one hell of a woman. But Lawd knows, I should keep my hands off of you."
He shivered.
"What we have isn't dirty Jacob. You always make me feel so loved." She suddenly realized how she was tormenting him and kissed him hard on the mouth. "I better get, Jacob. They’ll be missing me. It was so good…with you…" she murmured. "I'll be back to help pull the corn."
He nodded. "Anytime," he whispered.
"I’ll remember that. I can still feel you here." She patted the top of her belly. With a wink and one last lingering kiss, she let him touch her just a little before pulling away. "Makin' love is always good with you." Happiness bubbled forth in giggles as she made her way to the house with a basket of corn on her hip.
Hank was by the barn and saw her, his anger flashing at her. Rose lifted her nose in the air and went inside. Sometimes Hank was simply too possessive. He didn’t own her. He hadn’t asked her to marry. No man owned her…yet!
She emptied the bunch and told her mother they had almost finished with the crop. Her mother looked pleased.
"That’s good, honey. Bring all of it down and put it by the root cellar. We’ll shuck a few ears this evening."
Rose nodded.
As Josey churned the butter, Rose noted the serious look on her sister's face.
Poor Josey, always wanting Mama’s attention, and rarely getting any. Rose smiled to herself; even her mother loved her more. She couldn’t help it if everyone loved her so. Could she? She couldn’t help being so beautiful, could she?
When she returned to the field, Jacob was plowing the stalks down and she watched him for a long time. An ache older than time ran through her. He was a magnificent specimen of man, tall and broad shouldered, and all muscle. Sometimes, like today, after they made love, he took his shirt off and worked. Sweat beaded on his black skin. She couldn’t stop staring at him. She wanted him again. Problem was she never stopped wanting Jacob. Was it wrong to want a man? She didn’t know. Maybe she should walk away from Jacob. A smart person would. She could get pregnant and then what would she do. The thought made her hot and her eyes burned into him as he worked. As he worked, moving all those muscles at once was more than she could stand, but she bit her lip and determined she should leave well enough alone, for now.
She edged up to him and smiled shyly. "Mama wants us to bring all the corn to the house."
"Yes Missy," he said, putting down the plow and turned to look at her.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
"No…nothing at all. Do you have a woman, Jacob?" She asked not daring to look into his face.
"No ma’am. You know there ain’t no Negro women around here," Jacob answered twisting his head in question. "Why would you ask such a thing? You know that I love you and only you. I don’t think I could touch another woman but you…"
"Because our love…well, we both know things can't work out like we want them to. You should have a woman of your own, Jacob," she whispered. "A Negro woman…"
He looked at her seriously for a moment. "I take what I can get, when I can get it. From you…no other. Besides, I don't think another woman would understand what's between you and me."
"Don’t you want a woman…and babies?"
"Don’t look like that’s gonna happen, now does it?" He peered down at her, his gaze serious.
"Sometimes, you gotta take what’s yours Jacob…" She batted her lashes at him and hurried off with another basket. But she turned back to look at him provocatively. "An in case you didn’t know…I’m more yours than anybody’s. And I’m ready to tell the world…"
His mouth fell open, and his eyes went dark with desire as he moved to follow her, but stayed himself.
She hadn’t realized she was crying till she was almost to the house. She sniffed and wiped away the tears, quickly.
Rose thought about the men in her life and smiled. She had a lot of them. Given a choice, which one would she choose? Hank was young, well trained in the art of love, and eager to please. Nevertheless, he had some growing up to do. Jacob was a real man, handsome, strong, and very much in love with her, she knew. She pondered her feelings and had to admit they were stronger for Jacob. He gave her the knowledge that she was the only woman in the world for him. She liked that. Any woman would, she reasoned. George was just there, too old to think of in terms of a husband, but when no one else was around, he wasn’t that bad either, and they fed their loneliness together. He was always hot for her. But being older, he knew how to keep it to himself. He also knew how to hide what they did from everyone else, which came in handy for him. Trouble was, she cared for all of them, in different ways. Then there was Leroy. Dear sweet Leroy. Would she need to teach him how to make love? A man his age and size should know. Funny how some never understood that love came natural, that it wasn’t something dirty. That wasn’t appealing.
She smiled to herself. If she picked love, Jacob would come first in her life. For he gave everything and took nothing she didn’t want him to have. And what he gave was more precious to her. If she picked sex, just for the sake of it, Hank would be the man, as he had refined love making to an art, and if she were desperate George would be next. Leroy didn’t fit in…What was she to do?
She was engaged to a man that she barely knew.
Chapter Five
One hot afternoon, while the wind barely stirred, Josey glanced down the road and saw a mass of horses coming in a hurry. This wasn’t a march, or a gentleman’s ride. This was dust flying, horses neighing, soldiers kind of stir. Her first thought was that Leroy might be with them, but she forgot to check the color of their uniforms. Brown clouds scattered behind a full troop of Union soldiers riding arrogantly into the yard, as though they had every right to be there. Their commander held up a gloved hand to halt the blue uniformed men. Horses neighed, a fine coat of sweat foaming against their skins. They’d obviously been riding for a while by the looks of it. The leader searched the entire area, before his gaze landed on the house. Josey's blood ran cold as the officer peered inside from the top of his horse, then yelled, “All of you, come out this instant.”
No one moved as he waited impatiently. Then he yelled again.
“You in there, in the house, come out, all of you. I am Captain of the Union Army and I insist you come out at once.”
Josey ran to the side of the house to get her mama. She heard the officer announce himself, but ignored him. She didn’t greet them, didn’t look at them, she just aimed for the porch. Her nightmare was here and she had no idea what to do? She moved methodically toward the front door but slowed, spotting Hank running out from the barn, he started to grab a rifle but obviously knowing he was outnumbered, decided better of it and laid it down. He walked up the hill and stared at them.
Meanwhile, she saw Jacob carrying the last basket of corn to the cellar when he looked up and noticed them. He dropped to his knees, emptied the bushel, then slowly rose to his feet and came to stand beside Hank.
Josey went inside.
Her mother grabbed her hand.
"There's here mother, what do we do?"
"Is this all?" Their leader asked as Josey and her mother came out on the porch.
"No sir, my other daughter carried water out to my last field hand. They’ll be in directly. What do you want with us?"
Josey couldn't have been prouder of her mother as she stood the man down. "Since you’re on my land, I really should do the asking."
The commander sized her up quickly and scanned the area thoroughly before he answered. "I’m Captai
n Franklin Moore, with the 23rd Calvary, Union forces. We’re hungry, thirsty and in need of water for our horses and rest for a bit. We not only want your co-operation, we expect it. Is that understood?"
"I’ll start some supper then. Come Josey, help me get some grub together for these men." Her mother directed, her face not changing one bit since she walked out to greet them.
"Ma’am, you are all Southerners." The captain declared as though the explanation were necessary.
"I expect so. We live in Texas, which should say everything. Got something to say captain? Go ahead. Speak up. You want to know if we’re Rebels. Isn’t that what you’re asking?"
"Yes ma’am." He cleared his throat and looked around at his men who were watching with interest.
Josey glanced at the handsome blond captain with the neatly trimmed beard. His arrogance shaped his words. She saw the steel flint of his gray eyes, the narrowing.
But her mother put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "We are not! Any fool could see that. We are farmers, trying to make a living out of this dirt farm. Anything else you need to know?"
"Yes ma’am, do you have family in the war?" He got off his mount and approached her side. His sword dangled into the ground making an annoying sound.
"We don’t."
"You expect me to believe this far south, sitting practically on the Red River that you chose no sides?" He frowned into her face.
Her mother scrutinized the man, but attempted a sly smile. "I don’t expect anything from you, captain, I don’t know you. You come riding up into my yard, uninvited and I still extend every courtesy. I would expect the same from you captain. This war has divided most people in Texas. Not everyone owns slaves here, either. Some see the need, some don’t." Mrs. Anderson scoffed glancing at Josey with a smile. "I’m not blind…slavery isn't the only problem, though, is it? The cotton and sugar and all the other things we grow by the sweat of our brow, that’s what you want! Look around captain; this is a farm, a working farm. I have two daughters and neither are in any army. I'm not your enemy captain, I simply exist."
"Do you own slaves?" He asked glancing straight at Jacob as he spoke.
"My husband did, yes…" she admitted. "But you can ask Jacob how he feels about this place. He's speaks English. He's never been a slave except unto himself, he's family. Jacob has always been family to me and mine."
Jacob came shyly up to the captain. "This is my home…captain sir. I been with ‘em twelve years. I was just a kid when I came here. They took me in, gave me a home, gave me work, taught me how to read, how to grow things in God's green earth. Taught me about the good book. This is my home…the only home I can remember, captain."
"We came to free the slaves." He said loudly. "Do you understand what that means to you, boy?"
“I'm neither a boy, nor a slave. And yes, I understand…but where am I to go, captain since I'm free as you say? What am I to do? My family was sold on the auction block. I know not where they are. This is my family now, my home. How do I make a livin’? This here is all I know. I’m a farmer. We are all farmers here on this land."
He rolled his eyes. "It would seem this boy is no different from the rest. Loyal to his owners."
Josey watched as her mother walked straight up to the captain, standing beside Jacob.
"Captain, look around you. Everyone did not go to war. Some stayed to make a living for their families. I have daughters, sir, not sons. We don’t fight wars. We take care of the leavin’s. But we don’t fight." Her mother stood proud once more, glaring at the officer and his men.
Josey watched the man raise his head higher. His arrogance had no bounds.
As though she had said nothing, he ignored her.
"The North is liberating the Negroes. You are a free man. And, Mrs. Anderson, it’s very noble of you. If you mean it. So, where is your other daughter?" He glanced about the place.
"I told you she went to take water to my field hand."
"Sergeant, find them and bring them in." The Captain ordered. "And Mr. Anderson?"
"You’ll find him out there." She pointed, and covered her eyes from the glaring sun. "In the family graveyard."
The captain again met her glaring gaze.
The sergeant obeyed and dismounted. He drew his gun and took off in the direction her mother pointed.
"Your name is Anderson, correct?" The captain asked.
"You know our names, why ask?" Josey watched as her mother continued to stare him down. She was so proud of her at this moment to face this man with his nose so high.
"Any kin to the Andersons of Virginia, by any chance?" he asked.
"I wouldn’t know. There are many Andersons, sir. Now would you like to come in and have some tea?"
He ordered his men to dismount and he followed her toward the house. “I only ask because those Andersons gave us quite a time. They were rebels."
"There are many rebels captain, not all of them Andersons. Now, I’d apologize if I saw a need. Since I don’t know them, I feel no apology necessary. Now if you are through with the interrogations, we’ll be making dinner."
Josey stared with pride, but suddenly her mother leaned forward almost falling, as the light went out in her beautiful eyes, her pallor changed.
Josey went to take her arm, afraid her mother was feeling ill.
"Do you or any of your people know where the rebel camp is?" The Captain persisted. Josey glared at the man. Couldn’t he see her mother was ill?
"No. Why would we know? We have nothing whatsoever to do with the war, sir."
Josey watched her mother thrust herself at the captain, but this time his questions took its toll and she faltered again. Then she saw the cemetery smile plastered on her mother’s placid face, as her mother walked away.
"Aw…riding out on the fence line perhaps?" he bellowed. "Do you honestly think that’s possible? To not choose sides? I’ve seen some like you. At some point you will have to make a decision."
“Are you purposely trying to pick a fight with an old woman, or is it just bad manners?” Mrs. Anderson asked as she looked at him over her shoulder.
Josey smiled as her mother’s words warned him that she would not put up with his nonsense much longer.
"I’m sorry…my apologies. I’d love some tea." He frowned down at her. "Forgive my bad manners, but I have a job to do. War is not a pleasant task…When we cross enemy lines we sometimes forget our more genteel manners, ma’am."
"I can see that. Sit down captain; I'll only be a minute with the tea."
Ruby placed a china cup and saucer in front of him. "So why do you chose to go about this war if it is so unpleasant?"
A silent scowl welcomed him to her home. He shrugged.
Josey studied the man for a long time. Thin, square shouldered, blond and bearded. She tried to figure out what kind of stance to take with this man who pushed his way into their home. Were all Federals ill mannered? "Sir, my mother is ill, please be gentle with her."
"What’s wrong with her, she looks fine…and certainly has a barbed tongue." His cold stare hardened on Josey now.
"Looks can be deceiving. My mother is gravely ill, in fact, she’s dying…of a cancer…" Josey informed him her voice low and soft so everyone did not hear.
He frowned again and studied Josey with a tilt to his head. "And where might your husband be?"
Taken by surprise by such a question, she could smell the distrust in him. "I have no husband."
"Indeed. Your sister, is she married?" His uncaring voice tempted her to slap him. "No." Josey found these questions unwarranted.
"Then this is all that’s about here?"
Again his disbelief flared at her. Did he honestly think she was lying? “You expect me to believe you run this sizable farm with just a handful of people?”
"I don’t expect anything of you," she added with disregard. However, her answer came with his arched brow.
Josey hated his bold-faced questions, his unsurpassed prying. "This is
all since my pa died. It's hard to run a farm with little help, but we've made do."
Then the Sergeant walked in with Rose and George. Josey grimaced, her eyes trying to send a silent message to them both. The sergeant pushed them to the center of the room with the butt of his rifle. "I got ‘em sir. They were a little busy when I found them, sir." He couldn’t hide the snicker.
The captain looked at Rose’s tousled hair, and rumpled clothes, then at George, a slight ungracious curve to his lips. H face registered disgust.
"This must be all, if she’s with this one. Go help your mother, girl," he commanded her. "Tell the men we’ll be making camp here tonight sergeant. We’ll move out at dawn." The captain gave the order. He watched everyone in the room with eagle eyes.
"Yes sir."
At the table, the women sat down with the captain, who took the time to wash at the basin, then he absently stroked the whiskers on his chin, as if calling attention to himself.
Rose was quiet for the first time in a long time. She didn’t flutter her eyelashes nor tempt him with her smile. Fear hung like a cloud over her beautiful face. For the first time in her life, Rose seemed scared witless. She’d gone pale. Josey wished she could comfort her too.
The captain unfolded a map from his coat pocket and pushed the precious china away, as he spread it before him. The fact that he stained the tablecloth when he tipped his tea didn’t seem to faze him, callus and ill-mannered, Josey thought silently.
"Bring that man over here, sergeant."
The sergeant prodded George to the table with the end of his gun.
"Do you know where the Rebel's camp is?" He glanced at George.
George shook his head. "Nope."
The captain closed his eyes, and then turned an evil smile on George. "Take him outside and beat him until he talks."
The captain turned his attention back to the map.
"Bring the Negro and the kid in here." He ordered from the table.
"I cannot allow this?" Mrs. Anderson approached him, with a lethal look.
"You cannot allow what?"
"You can't beat that man. He's done nothing wrong, sir. Nothing at all."
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