by Becca Little
LITTLE JESSY & THE COWBOY
BECCA LITTLE
[email protected]
Copyright © July 2017 by Becca Little
First E-book Publication: July 2017
Cover created by: Domestic Discipline Publishing
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This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Bonus Story: Little Penny & The Convict
Chapter 1
“The rain ain’t coming.” My mother wiped her dusty hand across her brow, causing it to mix with the sweat of a long day’s work.
“We need help.” I let out a sigh and removed my cowboy hat to shake some of the dirt out of my shoulder-length blonde hair.
“I’ve tried.” She leaned against the old wooden fence holding our cattle. “I even left word at the general store for anyone who happens by looking for work.”
“We never had any trouble finding help when daddy was alive.” I shook my head and replaced my hat. “I don’t know what kind of bullshit we’re dealing with now that it is just us trying to tend to the farm.”
“Watch your mouth.” My mother pointed a finger at me and tilted her head. “We don’t talk like that, no matter how tough times get around here.”
My mother was a strong, independent woman. She made it her mission to keep our family farm going after my father was laid to rest. It had been five years since he passed and every season had seemed to be worse than the previous one since then. We seemed to always be fighting an uphill battle, but my mother had no intentions of losing the farm just because we didn’t have a man around. Two generations of Cartwrights had tended the soil and she intended for it to still be there future generations—all of that depended on me since I was an only child.
“Let’s go inside and eat.” My mother stared at the setting sun. “We can’t do anymore tonight.”
“Even if we work dawn to dusk, every single day, we’ll never get all of the work done.” I shook my head and walked towards the house.
It was the truth. There was simply no way to get the work done on our own. My mother was proud, but she knew I was right. I went to bed that night and started tossing against my covers, just trying to figure out a plan. Our livelihood was dying. The city had attracted many of the migrant workers we used to be able to get with promises of fortune inside of a factory. Those that remained didn’t want to work for a couple of women. I loved the West, but something had to change in a big way or we were going to have to sell the farm and follow the hoard of people that had relocated to the city.
“Who is that?” I put my hand over my eyes the next morning as we stepped out onto the porch.
“I don’t know. Hopefully it’s not another bill collector.” She put her hand on the railing and stared at the approaching rider that had a large white horse at full gallop.
When he got closer, we looked at other and then back at him. He sat high in the saddle, with a cowboy hat on his head and a dark blue shirt that had several buttons open on the front. He had stubble on his face and hair hanging almost to his collar. He slowed his horse as he approached, turning it to the side and dropping out of the saddle. When his boots were on the ground, I could tell he was easily six feet five inches tall, with muscles pressing against the fabric of his shirt and the tight denim surrounding his legs.
“Good morning ma’am.” He looked from my mother to me. “And ma’am.”
“Good morning.” My mother stepped down off the porch, onto the top step, still standing higher than him. “Can I help you with something?”
“My name’s John—John Bradford. I just got into town last night and I’m looking for work. The man at the general store pointed me in your direction and said you ladies need some help around your farm.” He put his hands on his hips and stared at us. My eyes were drawn to the revolver hanging on his left hip.
“We can’t pay much, but we definitely need help.” My mother sighed and I nodded in confirmation.
“I’d be happy with a hot meal every night and a barn for my horse. I’ll take whatever you can offer on top of that, and I’m ready to get to work right now.” He smiled and I had to look away when a dimple appeared on his cheek—he was incredibly handsome.
“We’ve got plenty of that.” My mother stepped onto the ground and looked up at him. “I’m Brenda Cartwright. That’s my daughter, Jessy. Let me show you around.”
John worked the whole day with us and we got twice as much work done as we normally did. He seemed to be as strong as one of our oxen. We ate dinner together and after that was done, my mother found a bottle of whiskey my father had left behind. John seemed gracious and gladly took a glass of the dark colored spirit. John still hadn’t said much since arriving, and I knew we were both curious to know more about the tall stranger that had appeared out of nowhere. We walked out onto the porch and each of us took a chair, watching the moonlight cover the farm.
“So where are you from, John?” My mother was the first to speak.
“I’m from all over, Ms. Cartwright.” He had a lingering hint of an accent. It reminded me of the men who came through from Texas every few weeks, but it wasn’t quite as strong.
“You can call me Brenda.” My mother lifted a glass of tea to her lips.
“Well don’t worry, Ms. Brenda.” He smiled. “I’m not a dangerous man. My family used to have a farm in Oklahoma, but most of them moved to the city when some of our kinfolk came over from England. I prefer a simpler life.”
“Everyone seems to prefer the city.” I muttered in understanding. “The first train out of here seemed to take half the population off to what they perceived as greener pastures.”
“No pastures there.” He chuckled. “Nothing but factories and smoke. One day you won’t even be able to breathe in the city. That’s my prediction at least.”
The conversation drifted off after that. John seemed to know a lot about the city and the struggles people faced after they left the West. It made me want to stay exactly where I was. He finished his glass of whiskey and retired to the barn. My mother and I headed to bed. When I walked up to my room, I saw him outside the barn, fixing a few loose nails we never had the time to get to. He was shirtless, hammering each of them in with one quick swing. Every muscle on his body was clearly defined and he was probably one of the most attractive men to ever come our way. When he finished and turned towards the house, I quickly slid behind the curtain and blew out my candle. I was pretty sure he saw me, even if I did get it blown out quickly.
Chapter 2
The days turned into weeks. We woke up before the sun came up and I stumbled my
way into my clothes before walking down the stairs. My mother always made breakfast, but I liked to take care of a few chores before I ate. The chickens made sure we had plenty of eggs, and the hogs we slaughtered in the spring had provided plenty of bacon. John always went straight to the kitchen to load up on food and coffee before he started his day. I normally waited until they were done eating to make my way into the house and grab a plate. With John around, there usually wasn’t much left, but I was always a light eater.
“The rain’s coming.” John casually pointed at the sky as I walked down the steps to get started with my post-breakfast chores.
“We ain’t had rain in…forever.” I looked where he was pointing, seeing a single gray cloud.
“Trust me. I can smell it.” He picked up some food for his horse and started walking towards the barn.
John was right. Even my mother was a bit skeptical of what he said, but by nightfall, we had thunder. Rain was so desperately needed, we were almost ready to dance in the dirt and beg for it to grace our farm with the resplendent nourishment it needed. John laughed at our excitement, but I could tell he understood our plight. He fixed a glass of whiskey and sat down in the chair that had become his evening resting place. A few minutes later, the heavens opened and rain started to fall.
“Sweet damn…” My mother looked back at me.
“I thought we didn’t talk like that.” I winked at her and walked down the steps, raising my arms against the downpour.
“Jessy!” My mother snapped at me. “Get inside!”
“Why?” I looked down at my dress and realized the rain was making it stick to me, outlining my form down to my nipples which were hard from the sudden cold. “Oh, right.”
“This is going to be coming down for a couple of days.” John stood and pointed into the distance as I retreated to the porch. “See those clouds?”
“No.” I shook my head as I peered into the darkness.
“There’s another storm coming.” He nodded as if we should both understand what he was saying.
The next day we worked in the rain, but my mother and I couldn’t have been happier. We had a lot less work than we normally had, but we still had to feed the livestock and make sure they were okay. I hadn’t been able to spend a whole afternoon on the porch in a very long time since most of the rain we did get was sporadic bouts that barely got the crops wet. We had barrels all around the house, intent on gathering all the water we could before it finally stopped. By nightfall, they were running over and the rain still wasn’t done.
“If this keeps up, we’ll have to put everything in the barn.” My mother stared out into to the sheet of pouring water.
“I guess I’ll have company tonight.” John chuckled lightly as he sipped his whiskey.
“Nonsense.” My mother shook her head. “The barn will be flooded. You can stay in the house with us.”
“It’s no problem.” John held up his hand. “I can sleep in the loft.”
“That’ll be wet too.” My mother resisted his option. “You’ll sleep in the house.”
We decided that we had no option but to get the animals in the barn, so we spent a couple of hours in the rain, rounding them all up. A few had nestled under canopies, and the chickens had a roof, but the rest of them had to go inside. John’s horse didn’t seem especially happy with his new roommates, but it was a temporary respite. By the time we were done, all three of us were drenched and my mother no longer cared about my nipples poking through the fabric of my dress—it wasn’t like she was immune to it.
“Come on ladies.” John put his arms around both of us. “I think we all need to have some whiskey tonight.”
“Jessy doesn’t drink.” My mother shook her head.
“It’s okay tonight, right?” John flashed his smile at my mother.
“Maybe just this once…” She looked over at me and then to John.
We all changed into dry clothes and headed downstairs where John was waiting with our whiskey. I quickly learned that whiskey was harsh. It burned my throat and I could barely stomach it. I had seen my father drink it for years, but I never really considered having any myself. My mother got flushed and warm after her first glass. I had no interest in a second, so I retired to be while they laughed and talked downstairs. I stood at the top of the stairs and smiled when I heard my mother erupt into the loudest laugh I had heard in many, many years. She deserved happiness. It had been a long time.
Chapter 3
I thought there was a romance budding between my mother and John. She had been lonely for a long time and John seemed like a good man, even if we didn’t know a whole lot about him. Based on what I saw, I assumed he was a few years younger than her, but he seemed interested. The rain continued into the next day and we had to do our chores in the rain again. Even the livestock had it better than us as we toiled away in the downpour. I was starting to get worried that our crops would flood by that point.
“It should clear up tomorrow.” John said as he sipped his whiskey on the porch once our work was done.
“It’s about time.” My mother nodded.
He was right. Things cleared up the next day and we got back to our regular chores. My mother had a cough when we got started, but she brushed it off. By the middle of the day, it was a lot worse and she had to go inside for a rest. John and I finished the chores together and he picked some flowers to take inside. She looked a little weak when we walked inside and found her on the couch. John put the flowers in a cup and sat them beside the couch. She smiled when she saw them and he sat down beside her, using a dry cloth to wipe some of the sweat off her forehead. I had no idea what was wrong, but I was worried.
“I may need to go into town tomorrow and get a doctor.” John tapped the cloth against her forehead as I started dinner.
“No.” My mother shook her head. “It’s just a fever from being out in the rain. I’ve been through this before, everything will be fine.”
“The men from the market will be by tomorrow.” I stirred some meat into a pot of soup. “We need to get a good price.”
“If you’re not up for it, I can handle it.” John stood up and looked over at me. “Where are the books?”
I took John over to the stack of notebooks my mother used to keep track of our finances. He started studying them and ate his food while he turned the pages. He was still looking at them when I went to bed. The next morning, I found John asleep on the couch. My mother had managed to make her way up to bed, but she wasn’t strong enough to come down for breakfast. John took some up to her before we ate. I was so worried about her I decided to eat before I went out to start my chores so I could stay nearby if she needed anything.
“I really need to get a doctor.” John shook his head as he stared at the books.
“She doesn’t want that.” I insisted. “She won’t be happy if you do it without her approval.”
The men from the market came that afternoon and sat down with John. I stayed close in case anything was needed, but he had a good grasp on everything after studying the books. He quickly shot down every argument they tried about competition and pricing. By the time he was done with them, both men were sweating under their armpits and agreeing to a nice price increase over what we normally got for our crops. I was amazed watching him work. They shook his hand and departed, but their heads were down and they were whispering to each other in a hushed tone.
“That was insane.” I picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured him a glass.
“They’ve been ripping you off.” He shrugged. “They were paying a little more each year until your father passed, but they’ve been gradually decreasing what they offer every year since then.”
“You figured all of that out just reading our books?” I shook my head in surprise.
“Numbers have always been easy for me to understand. My parents forced me to get an education. It pays off every now and then.” He smiled. “They’ll be delivering a crate of whiskey and a few other things as an apology
for ripping you off all these years.”
The next day, a cart showed up with whiskey, cigars, some produce from neighboring farms, and even some coupons for the tailor. It was like Christmas—with actual presents instead of things we made for each other. After we all got it loaded, I ran up the stairs to see my mother. I opened the door and ran in, bouncing the bed to try and wake her up. I lit a candle and saw that her face was pale. I grabbed a wet cloth and wiped away some of the sweat. I was firmly in the doctor camp as I stared at her.
“You need to marry John.” I leaned over her. “He’s amazing.”
“I’m sick.” She coughed. “Maybe you should marry him.”
“He’s not interested in me.” I shook my hand. “He likes you.”
“What?” John startled me as he walked into the room with a tray of food.
“Where did this come from?” My mother struggled to sit up in the bed.
“John got the men from the market to send over all kinds of stuff! It told you, he’s amazing!” I bounced the bed a little bit.
“You need a doctor.” John shook his head. “I’m not taking no for an answer. I’ll ride into town tomorrow.”
My mother ate the food and then I went downstairs with John. He started studying the books again and reading through them. I had no idea what he was so obsessed with, but I gave him his space. He reminded me a lot of my father, always concerned with the books and the things that were going on with them. I filled his whiskey glass and then filled it again when it was empty. Since we had a whole crate of it, there didn’t seem to be any reason to worry about conserving it. He eventually lit on of the cigars the men had brought and I retired to bed. The next morning, I found him asleep on the couch.
“Good morning.” He leaned up as I walked down the stairs.
“Morning.” I wiped my eyes. “I’ll make breakfast.”
“After I eat, I’m heading into town. Can you take care of the necessities around the farm, at least the major stuff?” He stood and walked over to watch me prepare the food.