Jesselynn’s heart picked up the pace. She scanned the area she could see, set down her sewing, and stood to look up the hill above the cave. Nothing. She listened, but other than the breeze rattling the few remaining leaves, she could see or hear nothing. Nevertheless that feeling of being watched returned. Could someone be watching them and stay hidden? She examined the oak trees around them, one by one. Many had trunks large enough to hide a man, but who would dare come so close? They kept the rifles in plain view.
“What is it?” Barnabas stumped his way out to stand beside her.
“I don’t know. It’s just a feelin’.” Jesselynn rubbed the back of her neck. “Guess I’m just spooked ever since that letter.”
“Know anyone who could be lookin’ for you?”
“Yes.” Should I tell him or not? And how can I without telling him who I really am?
She continued scanning the trees, lingering over a broad trunk made even wider with a burl the size of a washtub. Now where would she hide if she were watching the camp?
“We need more wood. I’m thinkin’ of tryin’ to chop down one of those smaller trees.”
“Choppin’ wood puts lots of pressure on the knees.”
“I know.” He stood beside her, giving the trees the same once-over she did. He stumped along with her as she walked to the edge of the clearing where the bank sloped off down to the creek that threaded its way between the hills. Ridges and hollers, according to the locals.
“Jesse, mayhap I could be more of a help if I knew the whole story.”
Jesselynn heard the caring in his voice. She knew if she turned around his eyes would be warm and his mouth curved in that gentle smile he had. Once or twice she’d even thought on what kissing him would be like. She straightened just enough to put a bit of distance between them.
“I know you’re no lad.”
“Umm.” What could she say? Did she dare tell him?
“But I know too, you got yourself a mighty good reason to keep up the masquerade.”
“I reckon what you don’t know can’t hurt you.” Or me either.
“That’s not always true.”
“Maybe not, but I got to do what’s best for everybody here.”
“What about what’s best for Jesse?”
“Jesselynn.” There, I did it. “And the man who can do us the most harm is Cavendar Dunlivey. When my daddy kicked him off Twin Oaks and I turned down his proposal, he swore to get us all, including the slaves and the horses. While I’ve emancipated my people, he could sell ’em down the river if he caught them.”
She shuddered inside at what he would do to her. “I’d kill him myself before I let him touch any one of us.” All the while they talked, they both studied the surrounding area, rather than each other. But every particle of skin and clothing seemed charged, and she was sure sparks would snap if they touched.
Telling him let her stand a little straighter as he shared her burden.
“So, what will you do?”
“Hide the horses here through the winter. Then when the war is over in the spring, we’ll go home again.” The thought of seeing Twin Oaks when the infant oak leaves were pinking on the stems made her eyes water.
“What makes you think the war will be over by spring?”
“It has to be.” She turned at the sound of the whistle that announced Benjamin was back with the horses. She whistled back and bumped into the broad chest of the man who’d been standing with her. The thought of leaning on that chest and letting him put his arms around her made her catch her breath. Not since John rode off so gallantly had she stood in the stronghold of a man’s embrace.
She swallowed and stared at the button midway up his shirt. “I … I’d better go.” Her hands itched to touch him.
“Jesselynn.”
Ah, the sound of her name. So long since she’d been Jesselynn, it seemed a lifetime ago.
“Jesse.” She stepped back. “Please remember that.” When he reached to touch her hand, she sidestepped the contact. “I’d better get back to sewing if Sammy is to have something warmer to wear.”
“We’ll talk again.”
“Oh, I’m sure we will.” She swallowed the catch in her throat. Could she love this man in the same way she had loved John? Did she really know what loving a man was like, since all she’d shared were a few kisses and dreams? She stepped around him and returned to her sewing, stitching as fast as her thoughts swirled until she pricked her finger and a dot of blood glowed on the white cloth. The word she thought was not the one she uttered, which was a good thing because just then Thaddeus ambled out of the cave, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as she rubbed the blood from her fingertip.
That night before going to bed, Jesselynn stopped Barnabas at the mouth of the cave. “If you figured out that I’m … I’m not a man, is it that I am such a poor actor?”
White shook his head. “No. Don’t worry yourself about that. One would need to be around awhile to figure it out.”
“What then?”
“Little things, like your sewing. No man sews such a fine seam, and most men, especially young ones, aren’t as tender as you with children or as gentle with the ill, like the way you care for Jane Ellen.”
“Anything else?” She knew her tone was clipped, but the worry of it all sharpened her every which way.
“Well, ah …” His hesitation brought the memory back to her of when she’d helped him eat and drink, and the look on his face the one time he’d fallen against her chest.
“Good night, Sergeant White.” She brushed past him and darted off into the trees, her cheeks flaming as much as she suspected his were, but he had a beard to disguise the condition.
“We’d better make another trip to town,” Jesselynn said several days later, days she’d spent making sure she was always on the other side of the fire from Barnabas White. Being near him made it more difficult to think, and she couldn’t afford herself that luxury. Even thinking his name made her feel soft inside.
“Kin we git some sugar or molasses an’ maybe milk?” Ophelia looked up from hanging more venison over the drying fire. “De babies, dey need milk.”
“I know.” Jesselynn heaved a sigh. They all needed so many things, things she had taken for granted at home, like cloth and thread, flour and cornmeal, horseshoes and cowhide or pigskin to repair harnesses and bridles. One of the reins had broken the day before on the bridle Ahab wore. “Maybe if we get to Aunt Agatha’s before dawn, the horses won’t cause a stir.” Oh, how she missed that mule right about now. No matter how they tried to disguise them, Thoroughbreds were Thoroughbreds, and anyone with a decent eye for horseflesh would spot them. If only they knew of a place outside of town where they could leave the horses and walk on in. And if Meshach got work at the livery, how would he get back and forth, or if he stayed in town, where?
Too many questions and no answers.
Instead of worrying about the possibilities, she took out paper and pen to write to her sisters. While she had as many questions for them as they’d had for her, none of them made a life-or-death difference. Now if only there’d be a letter from Twin Oaks at the post office, she would have one less thing to worry about.
The next morning after an uneventful daybreak ride, they tied the horses in the shed at Aunt Agatha’s and rapped gently at the back door. Agatha answered the door, mopping her eyes at the same time.
“What is it, Aunt?” Jesselynn took her aunt’s icy hands in her own.
“Lettie is so sick. I’ve been nursing her, but last night she took a turn for the worse. Please.” She gave Meshach an imploring look. “Could you go for the doctor?”
“Of course he will. Where is the doctor’s house?”
While Agatha gave Meshach instructions, Jesselynn crossed to the stove and checked the firebox. The fire was nearly out and the woodbox empty, but when she stepped outside, the woodpile was down to a few sticks. Checking the back side of the shed, she had to admit there was another problem: the two old w
omen were about out of wood. If the temperature of the day was any indication, winter was shoving fall out of the way and taking over.
She’d have to set the men to cutting wood and bring in a wagonload, but that wouldn’t help today. What could she do? Wasn’t there anyone in this town who watched out for widow ladies? She picked up her load and headed back for the house.
Agatha met her at the door again. “I just don’t know what more to do for her.”
“I know. You’ve done the best you could.” Jesselynn shaved a few slivers off the wood with the butcher knife on top of the stove and laid them over the few remaining coals. If she’d seen the ax, she’d have split a piece or two for fire starter. Opening the draft wide, she blew on the coals until a tendril of smoke rose, then another. She set the lid divider in place and then the back lid so the draft would work when she added the two smallest pieces. By the time the burners were hot enough to heat water, she could hear Meshach’s boots on the back step.
“Doctor say he be right over.” He caught his breath, then added, “Also ask why you not call for ’im sooner.”
Agatha straightened as though she was about to fight, then slumped. “We have no money to pay a doctor, so we do what we can.”
Jesselynn felt like crying for her, but more tears would only water the soup, as Lucinda was wont to say. “A cup of tea will help, I know.”
“No tea.”
“Coffee?”
A shake of her head. “And there’s nothin’ left to sell, neither. We already did that.”
“What have you been livin’ on?”
“The fruit and vegetables from our garden. The two hens left give us eggs. We manage.”
“Good.” The thought of an egg made her mouth get all set for the taste.
“But I’ve been thinkin’ maybe some chicken soup would help—”
A rap at the front door stopped her in midsentence. “The doctor.” Her slippers flap-flapped down the hall as she hurried to let him in.
“I’m goin’ to de livery now, if you don’ need me anymore.”
“Not unless you can find something to cut up for firewood.”
“Kin do dat tomorrer and bring it here in de wagon.”
“I know.” Jesselynn rubbed her forehead with the fingers of one hand. “You go on.” She jingled the coins in her pocket. Should she buy wood for the women or scrape by on what was out there? The money in her pocket was all that stood between them all and … the thought didn’t bear thinking about. She could at least have brought in some dried meat, if she’d known things were so bad here.
The doctor came out of the sickroom shaking his head. “Not much we can do but keep her comfortable. When a body don’t want to live anymore, hard to keep ’em here.” He shivered and came to the stove to rub his hands over the heat. “They let the fire go out?” he said under his breath to Jesselynn.
“About out of wood.”
“Long on pride, these two, and short on sense.” The doctor shook his head. “I’ll get some wood over here sometime today.”
“We can bring in a load tomorrow.” The doctor nodded. “You a relative?”
“Agatha’s nephew from Kentucky. Thought to be safe here.”
The doctor barked a laugh. “It’s bad now but goin’ to be worse, you mark my words.”
“Worse?”
“Those hotheads down in Arkansas …”
Jesselynn didn’t even want to ask him what he meant. Bluebellies, graycoats, no matter, she just wanted the war over so she could go home. She saw the doctor to the door, refusing to dip into their meager cash store to pay him, then returned to the backyard to see what she could turn into firewood to keep these two old ladies warm until the morrow. Since there were no animals, she tore off the manger and hacked it into stove-size lengths, likewise the posts and sides of the stall divider. That along with the remaining chunks of wood should serve them. The two hens eyed her, then went back to scratching in their pen. Since the grain bin was empty, Jesselynn brought in some garden refuse and threw it down for them.
Now she had all the old biddies cared for. The thought brought an almost smile. She went back in the house and set a pot of water to boiling to make soup out of dried beans, dried corn, fresh carrots, turnips, rutabagas, and potatoes, all from the cellar, along with a bit of cabbage. Again she wished she’d brought some of the dried venison along.
Agatha came out of the sickroom some time later and sank down onto a chair at the kitchen table. “She’s sleeping, poor thing.” She eyed the bottle of laudanum the doctor had left on the table. “At least she’s not so restless. I could tell she was in pain, and at least now that can be helped.”
Jesselynn watched her aunt straighten the saltcellar and smooth out the crocheted doily. She moved the medicine closer, then set it farther off again. Had the doctor told Agatha what he believed?
“You want me to spend the night?” She waited until she heard Meshach’s boots on the steps to ask.
“No, no. You’ve done plenty, what with the wood and the soup and all. We’ll be fine. Perhaps by tomorrow Lettie will be feeling much better.”
She doesn’t know. Good grief, what am I to do?
“You go on now. Your people need you worse than I do.” Agatha made shooing motions with her hands. The vigor had returned to her voice, giving her almost as much a commanding presence as in earlier days.
“We’ll be back with wood tomorrow, then.” Jesselynn gave her aunt a hug and let herself be ushered out the door.
“No work here ’less I go to de army. But got a letter here for Sergeant White. Make him right happy.” Meshach patted his pocket.
As they left town, that old feeling of being watched kept Jesselynn looking over her shoulder. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. But her interior muttering did nothing to dispel the feeling, so they returned to their cave a different way.
“Letter for you,” Meshach said, handing Barnabas the envelope as soon as they got to the cave.
“Ah, from home.” His smile widened. “A letter from home.” He opened it carefully to save the paper and pulled out a single sheet. Only moments after beginning to read, he raised stricken eyes to meet Jesselynn’s. “I’ve got to go home as soon as possible. My mother is desperately ill, and there is no one else to care for her. May I use one of the horses to ride to Springfield? I can catch the stagecoach to Fort Smith from there.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Missouri
“I’ll be back,” Sergeant White assured Jesselynn.
Why did those words seem so familiar? Jesselynn nodded. “Maybe you’ll have to come all the way to Kentucky.”
“No matter where, I’ll find you.”
She nodded again. “You just get your family taken care of.” She stepped back when he reached for her. Two men hugging in public would cause all sorts of raised eyebrows, and she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself than necessary.
“I left you my address. You’ll write?” The plea in his eyes tugged at her heart.
“And you? We’ll miss you.” I’ll miss you. She didn’t want to admit that to anyone, let alone herself.
As soon as he boarded the stage, she turned and headed back for Aunt Agatha’s, where Meshach would be unloading the wood. You will not cry! She kept the order pounding out the same rhythm as her marching feet.
As soon as she’d checked with her aunt, who said Lettie was about the same as yesterday, she climbed up on the wagon seat and, taking the reins, headed the team out of town.
“De neighbors want to buy a load of wood,” Meshach said after they were halfway back to the cave.
“Really? For how much?”
He named a price, and she smacked her lips together. “That will buy flour and beans.”
“Miss Agatha, she send home some veg’bles.” He motioned to a tow sack behind the seat. “An’ three eggs.”
Amazing, we actually think of the cave as home. She had realized that the day before when thinking the sa
me thing herself. But this time there was no Sergeant Barnabas White to look forward to talking with. She stopped the next sigh in mid-exhale. Sighing could become a habit, a bad habit. If she let herself think of all the people who’d gone out of her life the last couple of years, the sighing would lead to crying, and no way was she going to let that happen.
“Maybe someone else would buy wood too.” If only they didn’t have to use the horses as a team. She wished they could have caught whoever stole their mule.
“Marse Jesse, I gots sumpin’ to ask you.”
Jesselynn glanced at the man sitting beside her. “So ask.”
“Well, you heard Sergeant White talkin’ wid us ’bout goin’ west? Go on to Oregon for free land.”
“Mmm. Guess I didn’t pay much attention.”
“I wants to do dat. Dey no niggers dere. Only black men free on their own free land. ’Phelia an’ me, we wants ta be married, then up and go west.” The final words came in a rush. “Sammy too.”
“Oh.” His words hit her like a dozen knife slashes. “You don’t want to go home to Twin Oaks?”
“No’m. I wants land of my own.”
She could hear the pride in his voice, the kind of pride she’d been nursing along so that he could become the man she knew he was.
“Would you wait until I get the horses home? Then I’d send you with my blessing.”
“Yessuh, we would wait. Planned it thataway anyhow. I’d never leave you alone in dat cave.”
“Good, that’s settled, then. But if you and Ophelia want to get married sooner than that, I see no reason to wait. You could go to a minister in Springfield.”
“I’ll think on dat.”
A scream from up ahead made her slap the horses into a trot. She pulled them to a stop near the top of the ridge and slung the reins around the brake post. Meshach was halfway down the hill before she crowned the ridge.
“Don’t come any further!” The voice came from her worst nightmare.
“Now drop your gun or this nigger here won’t have no head.” Meshach did as ordered.
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