Chapter 8
With every step the horse took, Annabelle felt like a knife stabbed her tail bone. Her muscles ached from the hours in the saddle. She’d had very little rest in the last twenty-four hours. If it weren't for the fact that she was getting pierced in the butt every time her horse moved, she’d go to sleep. Beau wanted to make it before dark, but she feared the sun would set before they arrived. For one, their bodies were tired and their horses showed signs of fatigue.
“Did you hear that?” Beau asked.
“Hear what?” she said, forcing herself to become more alert. She needed to help watch for signs of the Harris gang and yet she could barely keep her eyes open. “No, I didn’t hear anything but the bird's chirping.”
He pulled his horse to a stop. Then she heard it. The sound of a baby crying reached her ears. “That’s a baby.”
A frown marred his forehead. “Maybe it’s from a farm?”
“Why would a baby be outside?” she asked.
They came out of the bushes within twenty yards of a couple with two small children and a baby. The wheel of their wagon had come off and the man was struggling to put it back on.
The couple gazed at them warily. Annabelle could see the fear in the woman’s face. “Hello? Looks like you’ve had some trouble.”
She tried to put the woman at ease. Beau was already sliding off his horse. He ground tethered his horse and went to help. The man was showing Beau where the pin had snapped on the wheel and how he was trying to fix it.
The outlaw was over trying to help a stranger fix his family’s wagon. Every time she thought she hated Beauregard Samuels, he did something nice either for her or someone else to make her reconsider.
Annabelle slid off her horse and walked over to the woman. “Hi, I’m Annabelle and that’s my husband, Beau. We’re from Zenith.”
“Nice to meet you,” the woman said. “I’m Irene and that’s Jack, my husband.”
“How old are your children?”
“They’re four and two years old and the baby is six months,” she said. The baby began to cry again. “Sorry, he’s teething and he’s been very fussy.”
“Are you from around here,” Annabelle asked.
“Yes, we live about five miles from here. We were almost home,” the woman said, glancing over at the toddlers.
They seemed like a nice family and Annabelle felt a moment of jealousy. This was what she wanted. A family of her own with children and a loving husband. Someone to talk to when her sisters were gone besides the chickens.
There would come a day her sisters found husbands of their own and moved away from Annabelle and the farm. She could be living alone.
There was a moment of silence and then the woman turned to Annabelle. “How about you and your husband?”
“No babies,” Annabelle responded, wanting to correct the woman and tell her they weren’t married, but knowing that would raise her suspicions. If the Harris gang stopped them, they might tell them they weren’t married.
“I’m so glad your husband is helping mine. I was worried he would get hurt trying to fix the wagon. It was so nice of you to stop and help us,” she said, gazing over at the men who were squatted down talking about how was the best way to fix the wagon.
How would a woman feel if she knew that the man helping her husband was Jesse James’ brother? Would she still feel grateful? Doubtful.
And though Annabelle knew that Beau was an outlaw, how many men would stop and help a couple in need? Wouldn’t most rob the family since they were in a dire situation? She watched as Beau lifted the wagon while the man slid the wheel back on. Then they worked together to tighten the wheel.
“Excuse me,” the woman said, to Annabelle. “Would you mind holding the baby while I excuse myself for a moment. I never seem to get time to go to the bushes alone.”
Annabelle chuckled. “Of course.”
She held out her arms for the baby and the woman placed him into her arms. For a moment, she felt awkward. Years had passed since Ruby was a small child. In fact, her mother had still been alive when Ruby was a toddler. The memory of her mother and her sisters made her release a sigh. God, she missed all of them. Her mother and now her sisters. Surely they would realize they’d lost her trail and come back, but what if they ran into the Harris gang.
It was a constant worry.
The baby gazed up at her with a frown on its face. “Hello. I should have asked your mother your name.”
The child reached out and grabbed a piece of her hair. “No. No, I still need that hair. Soon you’ll have your own.”
She rocked the baby in her arms, swaying from side to side. For a brief moment she imagined he was her baby and the only person she could think that could possibly be his father, was Beau. But that was crazy.
Someday. Someday she would have a husband and children. Someday. Her heart squeezed painfully and she sighed, longing pumping through her veins. And Beau…
Beau would hang for the crimes he’d committed. There was no future with an outlaw.
She thought of Beau’s mother. Three of her sons were outlaws, men hunted by the law, who would probably die an early death. She gazed down at the child and her heart ached for Beau’s mother. Regardless of what her children had done, she still loved them. She didn’t want them to die.
A moment later, the mother came back. “Oh, thank you. I needed that break. You’ll learn that with toddlers and babies, you never get a break.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
Annabelle handed the baby back to his mother. “He was very good. What’s his name?”
“George,” she said.
“He’s a cute little fella.” Annabelle wished they could get going again. She didn’t like lying to people and she felt like everything she said to this woman was a lie.
The men stood up and shook hands. Annabelle could see that the work had been completed.
“Thanks for helping us,” she heard the man say to Beau.
She felt a rush of pride. The family had obviously needed help and Beau had stopped and offered his help. How many outlaws would have done such a thing? But Jesse James’ brother had helped. People would assume he was a killer, just like his brother. Personally, she would never have believed this tale if someone told her about him helping a family.
“Looks like your wagon is fixed,” Annabelle said to the woman.
“Your husband was so kind to help us,” she said trying to herd her children to the repaired wagon.
What Beau said about people suddenly made perfect sense. Would anyone believe Jesse James’ brother helped a stranded family? She was Ruby McKenzie’s sister, the girl expelled from school for charging boys to kiss her. Did that mean she would let a boy pay her for kisses? Absolutely not.
Yet wouldn’t most people compare Beau to Jesse and not give him a chance? An ache began in her midi-section. No wonder he’d turned to a life of crime. Not many people would give him a chance, but rather assume the worst about him.
“No problem. You might want to try to make it home tonight. I don’t know if you can or if you’ll run out of daylight. There’s a dangerous gang running in these parts, so I’d try to make it home,” Beau warned them.
The man began to load the wagon and Beau helped him. When they had everything loaded, he helped his wife into the wagon and then handed up their children to her. He turned and shook Beau’s hand. “Thanks again. I appreciate it. I hope you reach Fort Worth safely.”
“Thanks,” Beau said.
The woman waved to Annabelle and they drove off leaving them behind.
“Do you think we should follow them, just to make certain they reach their home okay?” Annabelle asked as their wagon bounced along the trail.
She didn’t want to delay her and Beau reaching the Red River, but she also worried that the Harris gang would find the family and hurt them.
“No, they’re headed in the opposite direction. I think they’ll be okay. They’ve got almost two hours lef
t of daylight,” Beau said gazing over at Annabelle. “Let’s get going.”
“Yeah, we lost some time there.”
“Some things can’t be helped,” Beau said and climbed on his horse.
“You surprise me. I’m glad we stopped and helped them.”
He grinned at her. “Yeah, all outlaws have black hearts and eat small children. You wouldn’t think they would stop and help someone.”
She shook her head at him, frustration filling her at how she’d thought he was kind for helping that family. Why when she began to believe that he was a nice guy, did he say something that made her want to smack him. “You are such a weasel.”
“I aim to please,” he said and gigged his horse.
The break was over and once again Annabelle was jostled in the saddle as they headed down the trail.
The trail was so dark, they couldn’t see where it led. Finally, Beau had to admit it was time to call it a night. When Annabelle learned they would be camping without a fire, she was going to be angry. But he wasn’t taking a chance on either the smell or the sight of a campfire luring in the Harris gang. No, it wouldn’t make for a comfortable night, but being dead wouldn’t accomplish what he needed to do.
He pulled his horse into a grove of trees far enough off the trail that they would be hidden.
“Your hotel for the night,” he said to Annabelle.
“Your choice in accommodations is lousy,” she replied swinging her leg over the saddle. “And the light is so bad, it’s going to be hard to find wood.”
“No fire tonight.” He was certain she would now begin to throw a fit that they could not have a fire to keep warm and keep the animals at bay. But he was worried more about two-legged animals than four.
She turned and he could feel her gaze on him, but he couldn’t see her expression. “Oh.”
For a moment, he was stunned. She wasn’t complaining, in fact, she accepted the fact that there would be no fire for them to cook on or get warm by.
“It’s going to be a chilly night.”
“Yes,” he replied thinking of how he was going to feel with no bedroll to snuggle down into, only the cold hard ground beneath him.
“I’ll see about opening us up a jar of peaches,” she said. “Or you can have cold green beans.”
He laughed. “Frankly, I’d be happy with some peaches and there’s some dried beef jerky in my saddlebags. I’ll get it.”
Together the two of them unsaddled their horses and tethered them to a nearby tree. Beau pulled out some oats he had and fed both animals. They worked side-by-side in the dark to set up their camp.
A few moments later, he joined Annabelle on the horse blankets she’d laid down on the ground. She handed him a fork.
“Where did you get the forks?” he asked.
“Since I had to clean the dishes back at the Harris encampment, I thought maybe they just might not need these utensils any longer. I slipped two of them into my dress pocket.”
She’d taken some of the Harris gang’s eating utensils. A chuckle erupted from within him at the gang sitting around the campfire to eat and someone having to use their fingers.
Beau smiled. “You stole from a band of thieves? Doesn’t that make you a thief.”
“Hey, I learn from the best. Besides, it was payment for washing their dirty dishes.”
They sat there in the darkness, the stars shining down upon them, the glow of the moon their only light.
“Did you like being a farmer?” she asked.
He thought about his time on the farm. Until she’d brought it up, he hadn’t realized how much he missed the routine of the farm. The early mornings, the seasons, the caring for their animals and the harvests. The way his mother and even his father had helped make the hard work fun. He’d enjoyed his life until the Civil War ended. That had been the beginning of the end.
His family had owned slaves and sided with the south, believing the south would once again be resurrected. His brother Jesse had fought and even today continued to fight for the Southern cause, but Beau didn’t agree.
And for that reason, he’d been ostracized by his family. Told to leave when he didn’t agree to join what his brothers were fighting for.
The memories were painful. Even now, his chest ached with the knowledge that he was the true rebel in the family. The one who believed both sides were wrong. And yet, people assumed he was just another outlaw in the family. Another fighter for the Southern cause.
Just like Annabelle.
“I miss the farm. I miss my family,” he said and he did. An aching sense of sadness filled him at the thought of his family, his mother. She’d suffered so much at the hands of her children. Including, losing a limb last year to the incendiary device that the Pinkerton’s threw into the house and the subsequent blast that killed his half-brother. All because Jesse continued the rebel fight.
The war was over. And so was Beau’s connection to his family.
“Papa use to talk about the James brothers,” she said. “He’s probably rolling over in his grave right now with me sitting here beside you.”
“Yeah, we’re all a bad lot,” he said sarcastically. “The union army tortured my father, trying to learn where my half-brother Frank’s group of men were. They made us abandon our farm in Clay County. My mother suffered the loss of her arm and my youngest brother was killed. Not to mention the everyday harassment by the locals.”
A fierce anger filled him. He took a deep breath, calming the pulsing hatred and reliving the worst days of his life. “Clay County, Missouri was “Little Dixie,” and the culture was extremely pro-slavery, but there were the unionists who hated us.”
She sat gazing up at him with what appeared to be understanding in her eyes, not contempt or aberration, but rather sympathetic perception. A sense of belonging came over him. He felt the words tumbling from his mouth that he’d never voiced to another human being though secretly they’d known.
“I didn’t believe in slavery. As a little boy, my best friend Joshiah, was a slave on our farm. We’d played together as long as I could remember until they put him to work in the fields,” Beau said remembering that day like it was yesterday. “My father told me it was past time for him to earn his keep. He had to work. And he had right up until the day Jesse killed him.”
Annabelle gasped. “What happened?”
“He got caught stealing.”
“That’s hardly a killing offense.”
“It is when you belong to an owner that believes your life means nothing,” Beau said. His brother had been young. Home from the war recovering from a chest injury, Jesse had been filled with hate and distrust and fear that his way of life was ending before it had barely begun. Killing Joshiah had been a power move, one to show the negroes that Jesse was in control. It had cost Joshiah his life and Beau his friend. It had been stupid and senseless and Beau hated Jesse just as much today as he had back then.
An owl hooted somewhere nearby and she shivered.
“Cold?”
“I’m not sure if I’m cold or disturbed by what you just told me. We never had slaves. Our Papa didn’t believe in slavery. Joshiah was your friend, your playmate. Couldn’t you stop them?”
When Beau heard Joshiah was in trouble, he’d gone running to the slave quarters, but he’d arrived too late. And Jesse…his brother had seemed almost gleeful when he’d seen the pain on Beau’s face. He’d called him despicable names for befriending a black boy.
“He was dead before I found out. It was the first time, I’ve ever wanted to kill someone. Jesse told me Joshiah was just a blackie and why was I getting myself all worked up over his killing. Then he told me I needed to grow up and become a man. I learned to hate at that moment. Hate what my brother had become.”
That hate still fueled some of Beau’s decisions, though lately it seemed to have backed off some. If it hadn’t been for his mother, he would have killed his brother.
Annabelle sighed. “I’ve been plenty mad at both of
my sisters, but I’ve never hated one of them.”
“I did. We’ve never been close, but I still have to live with his actions every day.”
A cloud covered the moon and for a moment, he couldn’t see anything. A dark night would certainly cloak them well, but still he kind of liked to see what was out there.
“I bet most people think everyone in your family is just like Jesse. People assume a lot about a person before getting to know them.”
He put down the jar of peaches he’d been eating and glanced over at her in the darkness, wishing he could see the expression on her face. Was that understanding he heard in her voice?
“Once they learn that I’m related, they believe I’m just like my brother. Some people have even run from me. Some want me to join their rebel cause. Others become very protective of their family members and slink off quietly in the night,” he said. “Even if I had obeyed the law, people think I’m an outlaw. With Jesse’s reputation, I have no chance.”
The first time he’d been arrested, he’d barely been eighteen. They’d held him hoping that his brother would come break him out of jail. Finally, they realized after almost a month that no one was coming to rescue him. No one, and he was okay with that.
Finally, they’d released him.
“I guess I’m assuming a lot. But you seem different from what I’ve heard about your brother. Of course, much of what I’ve seen and read could be enhanced for those dime novels.”
He laughed and realized she did understand. It was hard to know what was fact and what was fiction when it came to his two older brothers. “Yeah, I don’t even know what the truth regarding Jesse is anymore. We learned a long time ago not to believe everything the newspapers said. He was seriously wounded, laid up at my uncle’s when he was given credit for a robbery, that we know he couldn’t have committed.”
He sighed and laid back on the ground. “A lot of people don’t connect the last name Samuel and Jesse, so as long as I stay away from Clay County, Missouri, I’m all right.”
Her hand reached out and covered his. “I love my sisters and I can’t imagine them hurting me so badly and then being forced to live with their reputation every day. It must be difficult.”
Lipstick and Lead Series: The Complete Box Set With a Bonus Book Page 44