Authors: Caryl McAdoo
“Interesting. I’ve not given it much thought until just now. You have to show me that method sometime for my Texas books.” She smiled. “I like to make them authentic.”
“Always a good idea. My girls would catch you for sure if you tried to sneak anything by.”
“I throw stones at my heroines, a cold wet night and no matches. Now that would be fascinating, especially if the man she had her eye on wasn’t around.”
She looked away and let her mind run free. “Or the man could be freshly mauled by a bear and delusional with a high fever. The wolves howled, and her dog ran away yelping.”
“Not my dog.”
She turned and faced him again. “She only has enough powder for one more shot.”
“Not my lady. Only an idiot goes off half-cocked.”
She pulled herself back to the now. “What’s not your dog?”
“Blue Dog, New Blue’s daddy, never ran from danger, ran straight to it. Another thing you need to ask Rebecca about—the time Blue saved her from the sow bear.”
May shook her head. She might not ever have to make up another story in her whole career. Seemed a lifetime of tales waited to be told right here in Red River County.
She resisted the urge to ask about his new dog or the mutt’s sire. “So how long before the water’s hot?”
“Not long.”
And it wasn’t, but then too soon, the wonderful rejuvenating bath was over, supper eaten, and no matter what excuse she imagined, in the end, she had to pay the piper.
Except a part of her truly wanted to go, the part that wanted to be where he was, no matter where that might be. And she did love to sing. He’d said seven-fifteen.
She floated downstairs and off the last step with three minutes to spare.
Of course he waited, but wore a broad grin—the one she almost loved as much as his little boy smile. He extended his elbow. “You’re early, I like that.”
She took his arm and let him lead her outside. But instead of the parade she expected, one wagon waited with two mules harnessed to it. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Girls all went early to help get everything ready.” He offered his hand and she climbed up to the bench seat. “Last I saw, the boys were headed south. Full moon tonight and a rising barometer.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Hey, Dex.” Walking around front, he patted a mule’s nose. “Plenty of light and a clear sky is perfect for varmint hunting. Charlie cashed in some of his IOUs.”
“Interesting. And why not take the carriage?”
“They took The Black. Figured some of the girls could ride home with us so everyone wouldn’t be so crowded.” He stepped up into the seat and took the reins in hand. “You don’t object to riding alone with me, do you?”
“Oh no, not at all.”
He flicked the leather over the team’s backs and off they went with a jerky start. She grabbed hold of his arm to steady herself, then didn’t let go. She liked it that she didn’t have to be so careful to protect her reputation out here in Texas.
No one would see them, and no one probably cared, well, maybe except for that Lizbeth creature.
She wondered if she’d rather be heading south instead of to her second church meeting of the week. Did it matter so long as she sat by this man? Hunting really wasn’t her bailiwick, but singing, not so bad.
Besides, he’d said no rules, so it might be intriguing to discover exactly what that meant.
Just as the sun sank behind the treeline, and the golden sunlight painted the bottoms of the clouds in brilliant gold, pink, and purple hues, several voices warming up in a beautiful deep harmony rode on the breeze. “We must be getting close.”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re going to enjoy this.” He smiled and after pulling around a row of huge cedars, a smattering of wagons and a string of horses came into view. Not near as many as on Sunday, but certainly more than she anticipated.
He tethered the team, came around to her, then offered his hand. Accepting it gladly, she stepped down then took his arm. He couldn’t imagine how much she loved walking on his arm, how it made her feel.
She poked him with her inside elbow. “I thought you said it was only us.”
“Few of the neighbors show up sometimes. Never can tell.”
With him, no place could be distasteful, and on his arm, she was a queen, so she didn’t care. If only he would be her king. She could even stand church twice a week as long as she always got to walk in on his arm.
It just wasn’t logical that a man so strong in so many other areas needed such a crutch. If a God existed out there somewhere, He wouldn’t be interested in the likes of these few country folks gathering mid-week.
He led her into a clearing. The building had no walls. What a surprise. Coal oil lamps hung on every other post and glowed cheerily against the shadows of dusk.
Four men stood on a small stage of sorts and continued tuning their fine harmonies. The simple beauty of the meeting place set against the backdrop of a painted sunset took her breath away.
“It’s so lovely. I never thought there would be no walls.”
“It’s a brush arbor, nothing fancy, cooler in the summer, but you have to bundle up in the winter.”
People moseyed around rows of planks made into seats balanced between stumps under the primitive thatched roof. It surprised her that the majority were Negroes.
But almost as many whites ambled about and visited like they were all best of friends. Why couldn’t it be such in Virginian society?
Henry led her to two rocking chairs and waited until she sat in the one offered. Had it, too, been Sue’s? Mammy, sitting on the front plank row visiting with Chester, glanced over and nodded at Henry.
May just hated that unflattering, old black slave granny moniker being hung on Chester’s new interest—although she did have the figure for it. But what could May possibly do about it?
She’d have to mull it over.
Mammy stepped onto a little box then on up to the stage area where the quartet quietened. “Alright now, everyone, if y’all’ll be so kind as to find yourself a seat, we’ll get started.”
The last few milling around found a perch. May glanced at Chester. To her amazement, he smiled and winked. She’d not seen him so happy in forever.
“For those of you who don’t know, Mister Henry’s put the word out to his many contacts that he wants to buy a slave with a peculiar birthmark on his neck.
“One who goes by the name of Big Hoss, last we heard. Well, he’s my brother, and the Lord just laid it on my heart that we need to pray that Mister Henry’s efforts are fruitful.”
May slapped her hand over Henry’s and squeezed. She smiled then leaned toward him and whispered, “That’s so wonderful.”
“So if every one of you will seek the Lord in your own way a few minutes, why, we’ll give God praise and consider it done! Hallelujah!” Mammy went and sat back down next to Chester.
Everyone bowed, so May ducked her chin, too, but peeked. Most everyone’s eyes closed, including Henry’s, and their lips moved. She took to studying her fingernails.
A tiny speck of ink stained the cuticle of her ring finger. It had survived even her bath.
She hated being dirty and curled the offending digit into her palm. How could it have happened? Covering it with the others, she looked around but it didn’t seem anyone had noticed.
Moving it to her mouth, she started licking frantically trying to get it off before the prayer was over.
Someone clapped their hands right behind her and jumped up. She jumped too, but remained seated in her chair. Her heart only missed a couple of beats. A man burst into song, telling Godly men to rejoice and be merry. To sing praises to the Lord.
Fast paced, his rich tenor filled the air. He seemed to make the words up as he went along; they didn’t all rhyme like on Sunday.
“Raise your voices in song to Him Who rides upon the clouds!”
They thought God rode the clouds? She’d never heard that. Second time he sang it from beginning to end, other folks joined in. May loved the joyful tune and picked up on the chorus the third time through.
Even clapped; everyone else was. Henry, too, but he had to be only mouthing the words, because she could not hear anything coming out. And she sat right there next to the man.
That song ended and another started right on its heels, then another. Before she knew it, she was on her feet, clapping and singing and truly enjoying herself.
Whenever she glanced at Henry, he smiled even bigger. Chester, too. Made her happy her having fun made them happy. Why, everyone seemed to enjoy it as much as she did.
The sky darkened and the lamps brightened. Ten or fifteen songs later, it ended. She wouldn’t have minded it going even longer.
That night while May stretched out in Mary Rachel’s feather bed hoping for a breeze, she relived the day’s events.
So much was said.
So much had happened.
Was she being a fool?
Henry sipped his hot toddy and debated whether to wait on the front porch for his babies to get home or go find them. But Levi and Wallace were capable of taking care of themselves and his boys.
And New Blue had gone along with them.
Hopefully, they’d gotten into that big family of coons that’d been raiding the corn crib, or.… He waved the raccoons off. What an old worry wart. His boys were fine, out there having a good time.
Anyway
,
it wasn’t even that late—yet. Standing, he walked to the porch’s edge then took the steps down into the yard. Moonlight bathed the land, and a light fog hovered low on the pastures below.
Turning his attention to the upstairs window on the corner, he contemplated his housegues
t
. May. Short and sweet, but mercy, Millicent was such a beautiful name, had a soft rhythm to it, like her walk.
If he promised to challenge anyone who dared call her Millie May to a duel, would she let him call her by her first name? The light went out in the window.
He sighed. He didn’t want any duels, he was tired of fighting. He’d killed enough men.
Mercy, Lord, why did he have to keep taking lives?
He wandered out to the pump and got himself a cool drink. On his way back, he studied the darkened window. Was she looking out at him or already asleep?
What would a life be like with the novelist by his side? He’d never met another woman who could even come close to comparing with Sue.
The picture of his Susannah facing down that storm ran across his mind’s eye. Then immediately, the first time May walked into the Donoho followed. He stifled a chuckle.
Sure wouldn’t want to get those two into the same room together, but no doubt it would be interesting.
The image of her strolling across the dining room toward his table awed him; and all those men blocking him from seeing her every sway annoyed him. Why, she danced when she walked.
Her rhythm and grace moved him at his core
.
He might not be able to sing a lick, but his mother saw to it that he learned to dance. What would it be like to twirl across the floor with the dark beauty in his arms?
He climbed the porch stairs and sat back in his rocker. One thing he knew for certain. He would never unequally yoke himself, not because of being superstitious, like Sue thinking God would punish her.
He wouldn’t do it because scripture clearly said not to. Didn’t want to meet his Maker and explain going against His word.
Was he being a fool thinking of a life with Millicent May Meriwether?
She sat up in bed with a song on her lips. That had never happened before in her life. Had she been singing in her sleep? How strange.
Shortly, she found herself in Mammy’s kitchen sitting next to Chester sipping hot coffee lightened with fresh cream and sweetened with a dab of molasses.
She’d hoped to find the cook alone and could barely wait for the opportunity to visit with her. An idea had struck that May hoped Mammy might like. And that woman!
Went and set a plate with two of those horribly delicious cookies on the table right in front of her. Oh, she would be big as one of Henry’s mules when she went home if she didn’t quit eating so much.
The thought of leaving, going back to the big city, hit her in the gut and sent a wave of nausea up into her chest. Who would ever want to leave this place? She took a bite and the sweetness melted on her tongue.
With her spoon, she lightly tapped the back of Chester’s hand. “Shouldn’t you be working on your edits?”
“Why, no, ma’am. That’s all taken care of.”
“Really? How’d you finish so quickly?”
“Miss Rebecca and Mis’ess Rose begged me hard to allow them to handle that chore. Wouldn’t let up until I agreed they could edit Miss Mary Rachel’s copy.
“I suspect they wanted to read your new novel most of all, but both of them assured me they had sharp eyes and promised not to get lost in the story.”
“Aren’t you anxious to get this manuscript off so you can start negotiations on the next one?”
“It shouldn’t take long, not with both of them on it.” He stretched back and rolled his shoulders. “I’ve been thinking we might shop the next one around a bit, get ourselves a better deal.
“I’d like to include the first chapter of the new book.” He glanced back to Mammy. “Everyone’s going to love her Lone Star novels.”
“But, Chester! I don’t want to be disloyal. We’ve done every book with –”
He patted her forearm then smiled. “Easy, we’ll give them first and last bid for sure. And if you’ll get to writing, we’ll send them first peek at your Texas Romance series. Don’t you like that name? Or what about The Republic Romances?”
“I like the alliteration, but with Texas a state already, Republic would date the series. It’s definitely a fascinating place
.
So where do you think I should start?”
Mammy turned around from her pot on the stove. “Oh, child, like all the girls said, you have to begin at the beginning, and that means with Mister Henry and Miss Sue falling in love.”
May swallowed the last of her coffee. Could she stand it?
Then a wonderful idea smacked her between the eyes. She’d put her own name down every time and then get Mary Rachel to replace it with her mother’s when she transcribed it.
What was she thinking
?
That would never work.
No way could she ever plant and harvest cotton or rear a little boy and baby girl out on this wild prairie all alone. How lonely it must have been. Why, without Chester, she couldn’t even take good care of herself in the lap of luxury.
How did Sue ever do it? And for ten long years until she finally met Henry. Sure was easy to see how she fell so deeply in love with him.
But May might as well face the facts.
Henry’s first wife was amazing, and never ever could May ever compare—in any way. So she might as well forget.… Still, the man had certainly encouraged her.
Dare she hope something serious could develop between them? Perhaps she should write the story.
Well, what she needed to do was talk to Henry, in private. It could be fun for her readers to meet Levi as a young boy, before he became the famous Texas Ranger.
“Has anyone seen Henry this morning?”
“He should be getting back, left out after the second cock’s crow this morning.”
After replenishing her cup, she found him in the barn, polishing the shimmering coat of that magnificent black stallion. “Good morning.”
“Yes, it is.” He nodded toward her hand. “Bring me one of those?”
“No. I didn’t even –” Now why hadn’t she thought of that? “I mean I wasn’t sure you’d be –” She held out her half full cup of coffee. “Here, have the rest of mine, it’s still pretty hot.”
He looked over his nose into the cup. “No thanks. I drink mine hot and straight up. What have you got in there, anyway?”
“Cream and molasses, Mammy made it. Tastes delightful, you should try it.”
“Oh, I have, but I prefer black.”
“So, where’ve you been?”
“Looking for sign. New Blue and I go every morning.”
“Every morning?”
“Yes, ma’am. I let them sneak up on us once, but never again.”
“Who?”
“Band of renegades, came to grab Rose and Charlie and take them back to Bold Eagle.”
“But I thought the Major and Captain tracked that Comanche chief down and brought him to justice
.
That’s what the newspaper said.”
“Yes, ma’am, they did. Of the ones who came here, we only killed five, at least two escaped. Both wounded. That makes it a blood feud.” As though looking into the future, he gazed out the barn’s open end. “I’ll never let my guard down again.”
“They came here? To your home? Seven of them?”
“Yes, they came while Levi and Wallace were away fighting the war with Mexico.”
“You told me you killed two. Who shot the others?”
“Jean Paul and Rebecca.” He pulled his lips back like he hated thinking about it. “And Charley shot one.”
“Oh dear, poor baby.” She should be terrified at the prospect that savages might be out there somewhere, waiting to kill them all, but she wasn’t. Not even the least bit concerned.
How did Henry do it? Make her feel so safe?
She stepped a bit closer, like he was a stove and she, chilly, needed to soak up some of his warmth, his safety, his strength.
But the realist in her, that part that kept nagging at her to get her business done and get herself and Chester out of Texas, that person led her back to her original intent.
“I want to ask you something
.
Chester and the girls are campaigning for me to write your and Sue’s love story. They’re saying Levi and Rose should come second. What’s your opinion?”
“Well.” He leaned against the horse and shrugged. “That’s pretty much where it all started, that day at the Sulphur Fork Trading Post when that scoundrel tried to bilk Susannah out of her cotton.”
He laughed. “I did my best to get an answer out of Elaine Dawson, she was Sue’s best friend, on how she talked her into asking me to go with her.
“That moment in time changed Sue’s life—and mine. Elaine always claimed the Lord orchestrated the whole thing. She’d been praying for Sue—not that she’d marry me.”
He winked. “Back then I had a bad reputation.”
“What? How could that be? Why?”
The Black stomped the ground, like the animal couldn’t believe it either.
“Your daddy had a big part in it.”
She grinned. “Truly? How? What did he do?”
Henry opened a stall gate, and the stallion walked in then turned around to let the man take off his bridle
.
He flipped a latch then launched into his story about celebrating Andrew Jackson’s presidential victory with too much of her father’s rot gut.
Once finished, he shrugged. “Anyway, Mother wasn’t one to defend herself—or me—so the gossip mongers ran amuck. I didn’t much care.”
She could listen to him all day. And not just for the tone of his voice. A natural storyteller, he convinced her she needed to tell his tale, but could she?
Blowing out all her breath, she caught his arm as he reached for a hay fork. He turned back.
“Which one of your daughters is most like her mother?”
“They’re all pretty much like Sue. Rebecca, maybe? She’s got her hair, but she never had her mother’s hot temper. Oh mercy, my Sue had a passion about most everything.
“Mary Rachel does, too. She gets pretty riled on occasion. Like she loves butting heads. Cecelia jumps to conclusions something awful like her mama.”
“Who? Cecelia? Oh, the one they call CeCe.”
“Yes, ma’am, the fourteen-year-old.” He cocked his head and raised his brows. Would he ever quit showing her different expressions? So far, she loved every one. “Yes, that’s right, fourteen in April. Bonnie hung that nickname on her.”
“What about her, your baby girl?”