Follow The Wind

by Janelle Taylor

  Jessie eyed the proud woman who could be so tough when the occasion demanded it. She was lucky to have Martha as her grandmother, to be able to speak most of her mind to someone who cared and understood, who could be trusted. “I promise, Gran; the only thing that will change around here is Fletcher.”

  When they were done packing the supplies, Martha retired to her bedroom and Jessie went to sit on the floor beside Jed’s chair in the large living area. The March night was cool, and a fire had been lit to chase away its slight chill. Jessie rested her head against her father’s knee as she had done for years, though not lately. She felt as if he needed her closeness and affection tonight before her departure, and after his harsh words with his younger daughter.

  As when she was a child, Jed stroked her loosened hair and murmured, “Come home safe, Jess.”

  “I will, Papa. Soon this trouble will be past. Be careful while I’m gone. Fletcher’s daring and greed make me nervous. We have to work fast to win.”

  “I wish Mary Louise was more like you, Jess. What’s wrong with that girl? She balks at every turn worse than a stubborn mule. She’s been a splinter in my side ever since she came home. I wish I’d never sent her to that school. They ruined that girl. They filled her head with crazy ideas and dangerous dreams. She’s so bitter and rebellious now. I don’t know what to do with her. Every word I speak has to be mean and cold or she won’t obey me. I think the girl hates me.”

  Jessie replied with care. “She’s having trouble adjusting, Papa. Life here is so different from what she was used to in the East. It’s remote and lonely without her friends and diversions. She had those things at school. She wore beautiful clothes, received lots of attention, and it changed her. She’s not a Texan anymore. We can’t blame her for being the way she is now. She was away from our love and influence too long. Be patient and gentle with her. Maybe that will help.”

  His voice cracked with emotion and fatigue as he said, “She won’t let me, Jess. Every time I try, she takes advantage. It’s next to impossible to get her to do her chores. I never have to ask you and Tom more than once to do something, and it gets done right the first time. Maybe she thinks I’ll give up if she keeps battling me and making mistakes. She struts around like a spoiled lady. She’s rude to the men and disrespectful to me and Ma. Sometimes I’m tempted to switch her good, but I’m afraid if I do, I’ll be so angry that I’ll really hurt her. If she keeps pushing me and testing me, I don’t know how I’ll behave, and that’s bad.”

  “I understand, Papa. I pray that time is all she needs.”

  “That’s what we need, too, Jess. Time to defeat Wilbur Fletcher.”

  “We will, Papa; I swear it.” She yawned and stretched. “I need to go check Tom’s schoolwork for today and give him assignments for when I’m gone.”

  Jessie halted before leaving the room and said, “Papa, if you can find something for Tom to do while I’m gone, it would help him. He feels so badly about being too young and unable to assist us.”

  “What can he do, Jess? It’s too dangerous for him to ride herd with us or to help with the branding. He can’t move out of danger fast enough. I can’t even let him carry the pail after milking ‘cause he trips too many times. I wish he had been born whole, Jess, but he wasn’t, so we have to protect him.”

  “I know, but it’s so hard on him…Good night, Papa.”

  “Good night, Jess.”

  Jessie walked through the kitchen and eating area and up the corner steps to Tom’s attic room. She recalled with dejection how many times the railing had been loosened and repaired from Tom’s pulling at it as he struggled upstairs with his clubfoot. She wished he could run and play and ride like other children. Most tried every trick to get out of chores when Tom would give anything to be normal enough to do them. She tapped on the door, opened it, and entered the cozy room. Two lanterns gave brighter light than the average person required for reading, but Tom’s bad vision made it necessary.

  Jessie walked to the small table he used for a desk and fluffed his wiry hair. Tom removed his almost useless glasses to rub his tired eyes, then smiled at her through a narrow squint that created creases between his brows and around his eyes. She teased her fingers over her brother’s freckled nose and cheeks. “Ready to get busy?”

  After they went over the lessons Tom had done that day, Jessie told him to work on reading and on memorizing his times tables while she was gone. She instructed him to write down every word he had trouble saying or did not understand so she could explain them and give him the correct pronunciations later. She wished Mary Louise would work with him during her absence, but she knew the selfish girl would not. She dared not suggest that Tom ask for help and get his feelings hurt.

  As she was about to leave, Tom asked in a pained voice, “Will I always be this useless, Jessie?”

  Jessie’s clear blue gaze met his anguished one. “You aren’t useless or helpless, Tom. Please don’t feel or think that way.”

  “I can’t help it. I can’t do much here. When we go someplace, I have to sit in the wagon and watch the others have fun. Look at what I have to wear,” he said, pointing to the thick stocking over his clubfoot that Gran had made for him because he couldn’t get a boot or shoe over the badly twisted foot. “People laugh at me, Jessie. They don’t want to be near me, like they can catch it or something. I wish they could, so they’d know what it’s like!”

  “Sometimes people are cruel without meaning to be so, Tom. There are things they don’t understand, so it frightens them. If life had turned out different, they could have been you. To hide their fears and relief, they joke about it.”

  The boy turned in his chair and stared down at his desk. “Please don’t let anything happen to you, Jessie. If you and Gran left, I’d be here alone with Pa and Mary Louise. They don’t like me. They’re ashamed of me.”

  From behind, Jessie lapped her arms around Tom’s chest and rested her cheek atop his head. “Papa loves you very much, Tom. He feels responsible for what happened to you, and it hurts him because there’s nothing he can do to correct it. I know it’s hard, but a person’s behavior and attitude sometimes control other peoples’. If you act ashamed and defensive, they’ll react the same way—or even worse than they normally would. Show how brave you are. Don’t let this get you down or stop you from trying anything you want to do. It will be harder for you than for others, but your perseverance will reveal your strength and courage to everyone. Treat your problems with humor; that relaxes people. Sometimes you can hush mean people by saying, ‘God gave me this busted foot. I haven’t figured out why yet, but I know He must have a good reason.’ Or say, ‘I’m slow, but I’ll get there eventually.’ Always laugh, even if you’re hurting inside. If you show you can overcome your problems or accept them, others will. Everybody has flaws and weaknesses, things they can’t control, and it frightens them.”

  Tom loosened her affectionate grip and looked up at her with shiny eyes. With enthusiasm and confidence, he said, “Not you, Jessie; you can do anything.”

  Merry laughter came from the redhead. “I wish that were true, little brother. If so, I wouldn’t be leaving in the morning. My weakness is in being a woman. If I were a man, I could battle Fletcher.”

  He looked puzzled and surprised. “You don’t like being a girl?”

  “I didn’t mean that. I just don’t feel like a whole woman. I’ve been a tomboy and cowhand too long. Now I don’t fit into either sex. I had to be boyish to work the ranch with men, and I had to learn to do everything better to be accepted. One day I’ll be their boss, so I need their respect and trust. I can do almost any man’s chores, but I’m not man enough to challenge Fletcher and his hirelings alone. It feels kind of like that half-breed who worked here a few years back; you’re in the middle with no real claim to either side.” Jessie laughed and teased, “Why am I rattling on with silly female talk? I have to get some sleep. Work hard while I’m gone. This isn’t playtime, young man. Always remember, Tom, a s
mart brain is better than a perfect body. What you can’t do physically, learn to counteract mentally. A smart head can open some doors that strong bodies can’t. Learn all you can, as fast as you can. One day, you’ll be glad.”

  “I love you, Jessie. I’m so glad I have you for a sister.”

  “I love you, too, and I’m glad you’re my brother.”

  “Even though I’m nearly blind and crippled?”

  “But you aren’t blind, and you can walk; those are blessings, Tom. Think of your troubles as challenges, never as ropes tying you to a post. Look what strength and courage they’ve already taught you; it can be more, if you let it. If I know my brother, one day he won’t let this foot and these eyes bother him. Until then, young man, study hard and don’t lose heart. Promise?”

  “I promise. You always make me feel better. I just forget it when I’m around other people, especially when we leave the ranch.” Tom hugged Jessie and kissed her cheek. “Be careful, Jessie. Come home safe, and soon.”

  “I will, Tom. I have more lessons to teach. Good night.”

  Jessie went to the room she shared with her sister, who was either asleep or pretending to be so. She donned a nightgown, put out the lamp, and got into bed. She was both excited and tense about her journey. She hoped nothing would happen tonight to prevent it. Fletcher had kept them busy for the past two days with his evil mischief, so hopefully he would be quiet for a time, at least long enough for her to get away unnoticed.

  Chapter Two

  Jessie saddled her horse, a well-trained paint that balked at anyone riding him except his beloved mistress, and secured saddlebags and a supply sack. A bedroll was attached behind the cantle, and two canteens hung over the horn. An 1873 fifteen-shot Winchester rifle was in its leather sheath. Belted around Jessie’s waist was a Smith & Wesson .44 caliber pistol that loaded rapidly and easily and fired six times. She carried ammunition in one saddlebag and in her vest pocket. She knew, if a horse had to be dismounted quickly to take cover from peril, survival could depend on having a supply of bullets within reach.

  Jessica Marie Lane was anxious to get on the trail before the hands returned from their nightshifts and reported any threat that would halt her departure. With the sun attempting to peek over the horizon, she had to hurry. Just as she was ready to leave, she heard men approaching her.

  Jed employed fifteen regular hands, then hired seasonal help during the spring and fall roundups. Half of the men rode fence and did chores while the other half rested from theirs. The night/day schedule altered each week. As soon as the hands in the bunkhouse finished dressing and eating, they would replace the others to do the same before yielding to much-needed sleep.

  The hands who gathered around to see her off and to wish her good luck were among Jessie’s favorites and best friends. These seven men were unflinchingly loyal to the Lanes and had been with them for years. All were skilled at their tasks, and all were amiable men who loved practical jokes.

  Rusty Jones was laughing as he joined her. The bearded redhead told them, “That biscuit shooter is airin’ his lungs deep. I told him I was starving, but he ordered me out of the cookhouse till he sang out that vittles are ready. Come back fast, Jessie. I’ll have a hot iron waitin’ for you,” teased the expert brander.

  “We’ll start bringing in the cavvy today,” Jimmy Joe Slims said.

  Jessie smiled, sorry she wouldn’t be able to help gather the wild and half-broken horses to get them ready for the roundup.

  Carlos Reeves, a skilled broncbuster, lit a cigarito, then rubbed his seat. “Si, amigo, I haven’t tasted dirt in a season. There’s one stallion I’m eager to get my gut hooks into. I never could break him last time. I’m not over that defeat yet. That diablo is demente. Ride with eyes and ears to your rear, chica.”

  John Williams, a huge and strong black man who labored mostly as their blacksmith, said, “Miss Jessie, you be careful allee time. We’uns’ll work hard tilst you git back. I gots yore hawse shoed good and ready to sling dirt if needs be.”

  “Thank you, Big John.”

  “Lasso us a real tough hombre, Jessie. Just tame him before you get him here,” jested Miguel Ortega as he settled a sombrero on his broad back.

  “Jamas!” shouted Carlos. “We don’t want him tamed, Miguel. We want him eager to spit lead at anybody riding the Bar F brand.”

  “I’ll be jumpy as a prairie dog with a rattler in his role until you get back,” Jimmy Joe declared.

  “Hold your reins, sonny,” Rusty replied. “Ever’body knows those two abide each other ‘cause the dog don’t know that rattler is feeding on his pups.”

  “Biscuit!” Hank Epps shouted from the cookhouse, “Git yore grub whilst it’s givin’ the steam!” Yet the crusty and jolly old cook hurried to join them.

  Jefferson Clark, another black man, said, “We was jus’ tellin’ Miss Jessie good-bye. She’ll be gone nigh unto two weeks.”

  “Eh?” Biscuit Hank responded, cupping his ear as if his hearing was bad, but all the boys knew it was fine when Hank wanted to hear something.

  “I’ll be mounting up, Papa, so the boys can fill their bellies and get busy.”

  Jed embraced his daughter and urged, “Be real careful-like, Jess.”

  Mathew Cordell ordered Big Ed, “Take extra good care of her.”

  The burly man mounted his large sorrel. “I will, Boss.”

  Jessie smiled at Matt who was fingering his mustache. He had never been one for many words, but this morning he seemed more talkative than usual.

  “You sure you don’t want me or one of the boys to go with you two? That’s a long and dangerous trail, Jessie. I’ll be worried till I see your pretty face again.”

  What her sister had hinted at last night kept flickering in her mind. As she had told Mary Louise, Matt was good-looking. He was steadfast and loyal, but a mite serious and quiet when compared to the other hands. A breeze played in his hair and something curious glowed in his eyes of a matching dark-brown color. His gaze was deeper, longer, and stranger than she had noticed before. Or maybe she was looking too hard because of her sister’s implication. “Don’t be worried, Matt. I have to go,” she told him.

  “I figgered you would from the first time you mentioned seeking help,” the soft-spoken foreman replied. “I’ve seen how your clever head works.”

  “A man don’t stand a chance against Jess when she makes up her mind about something,” Jed added. “Not even her pa.”

  “I knew she would win,” Matt responded, grinning.

  “Jessie wondered if that was a soulful expression in his eyes when the foreman ordered, “Let’s eat, boys. Jessie has to leave, and we got work awaiting.”

  Jimmy Joe nudged the half-Mexican and teased, “Yeah, Carlos is eager to git his britches warmed, his bones rattled, and his butt sore before dark.”

  “I’ll take the spit and fire out of any horse you bring in, amigo.”

  “Why don’t we start with that stallion who tamed you last time?”

  “Hopping onto his saddle will be easier than getting into a bunk with tied-down covers. I was so tired last night, I didn’t even loosen her reins before I jumped on her. Which of you amigos hobbled her so good and tight?”

  The men laughed and glanced around, but no one laid claim to the joke.

  Gran and Tom joined the merry group, but Jessie’s lazy sister was still dressing. Mary Louise had been told to take over Jessie’s morning chores during her absence but claimed she was “kind of behind” today. Jessie had awakened Mary Louise in ample time, yet her sister had not heeded her urgings to arise and get busy. Obviously Hank or a hand had done the milking and egg gathering. Jessie was glad she would be gone when their father learned of the girl’s new disobedience which would surely provoke more anger and harsh words. The redhead didn’t know what it was going to take to quash her sister’s stubborn defiance.

  Embraces and words were exchanged. Then Jessie mounted the piebald animal and bid them all farewell. Off she and
Big Ed rode on their adventure.

  For the first few hours, the riding was easy as they traveled over grasslands and hills that were scattered with short trees, scrubbrush, and yuccas. Here and there they encountered cactus: mostly prickly pear, ocotilla, and cholla. The area was lush and green, and Jessie always marveled at its. beauty. Several buzzards circled high above in the clear March sky as they searched for food. Graceful antelopes darted about during their early browsing. They were plentiful—thankfully, more so than the many skunks and porcupines!

  About twenty miles eastward was the old Comanche War Trail. The Indians had used that trail from North Texas for their raids into Mexico, particularly during the feared “Comanche Moon” in September. But Colonel Mackenzie had defeated the last big band in the Palo Duro Canyon in ‘74, two years ago. The survivors had been placed on a reservation in the Oklahoma Territory.

  Jessie knew how lucky they were that her father had made a truce with them in the beginning, just as he miraculously had done with the hostile Apaches who sometimes rode to the west of their ranch. Both truces had proven to her that peace was possible when each side was honest and willing.

  After a rest and water stop, they rode another two hours. The Davis Mountains were to their left and the Glass Mountains to their right. The Del Nortes near the Lane Ranch were left behind, as was the Bar F Ranch which they had skirted cautiously. In the distance, the mountains—that were mainly brown up close—looked purple. In every niche and cranny, wildflowers bloomed across the landscape, as spring was this area’s most colorful season.

  Jessie and Big Ed rested longer on their second stop and prepared a light meal. She was glad it was not summer, as this southwest section of Texas could blaze with life-sapping heat during that time. The terrain had begun to change; it was now semidesert. Many hillsides were dense with yuccas. Soon it would be desert with only occasional hills, mesas, and desolate scrubland. And soon they would be able to see for miles without obstructions on the flat and dry wasteland that would demand a slower pace as they weaved through wild vegetation.