I am Mrs. Jesse James Read online

  “Zee, do you suppose Frank and Jesse could have been intercepted? I heard the Federals will look for any reason to hang a rebel.”

  I shook my head. “Frank knows how to be cautious. He’ll be sure not to take any chances.”

  Unspoken words hung between us. As kin to the James boys, the possibility of the Federals knocking on our door and ordering us into exile made the small hairs on the back of my neck rise. I lifted a thick braid that hung halfway down my back and allowed a cool breeze to caress me. Lucy’s skirt swished as it brushed against a bee balm plant, lifting the fragrance of lemon to my nose.

  “Mama and Papa are eaten up with worry not knowing what may come next,” I said. “I wish we’d get news. I feel as though we’re balancing on a narrow log trying to cross a wide river.”

  “I fear what may come, too. Nothing is certain. I suppose all we can do is occupy our minds with other things and wait.”

  We walked a few more steps in silence before I spoke again. “I can’t help hoping that when Jesse arrives, Mr. Locke will have something else to think of besides bothering me. He gets bolder every day.”

  Lucy grinned and fanned her face. “Mama will be sorely disappointed if you refuse him again. I’m sure he must have a few good qualities. I know Mama and Papa are certain he’d be a perfect match for you.”

  “Perfect if I wish to live the life of an old woman long before it’s time for me to be one.” I shot a sly glance at her. “Perhaps I should tell Mama to consider you for Mr. Locke instead, since you’re more smitten with his charms than I. He might make a better husband than your young soldier, Boling Browder.”

  Lucy’s muffled snort told me all I needed to know. We laughed and turned back to the house.

  The next afternoon, while hanging wet laundry on the line, I heard horse hooves on the road. My heart jumped, and I stared in the direction of the sounds, worrying whether soldiers or other scoundrels could be on their way to raid our home. But all I saw was a small buckboard pulled by a thin old horse. A much younger animal, saddled and tethered, followed. The wagon squeaked and rattled, one wheel shimmying as though ready to fall off. A bearded man on the driver’s bench hunched over the reins.

  When I recognized him, I called out to Mama and Aunt Susan, who were sitting on the porch cutting vegetables. “It’s Frank!”

  “Thank the Lord,” Mama said, jumping up to greet them.

  Frank looked thin as ever. A heavy, dark beard partially obscured his face, but his blue eyes were still sharp and alert. Frank motioned toward the back of the wagon as Papa and Uncle Thomas joined us. “My brother’s life hangs by a narrow thread. There’s a bullet in his lung. He’ll need every bit of attention you can give him.”

  Jesse’s head rested on a folded blanket, his body wrapped so tightly, he looked like a babe swaddled in a quilt. He appeared to be unconscious, face flushed and gaunt with small beads of moisture gathered across his forehead. Despite the stubble of a beard, he looked very young. I touched his cheek to check for fever, and his eyelids flickered. They opened, and I saw the same strikingly pale blue I remembered from times spent years ago when we played together as children. Then, his eyes had reflected a mischievous sparkle. Now they looked empty, whether from pain or the effects of hard living, I wasn’t sure.

  Frank spoke again, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for this. We had to take him someplace safe where he can get the care he needs. There’re too many who want nothing more than to see one of the rebel gang swing, even though he lawfully surrendered and took their damned Ironclad Oath on his sickbed so they’d let him leave.” Anger simmered beneath Frank’s pain.

  Mama squeezed his arm. “Try not to worry. Jesse is our kin, and we will do whatever we can for him.” She motioned for Papa and Uncle Thomas. “Can you get him inside, please? Be gentle as you can.”

  They tugged on the pallet and lifted Jesse from the wagon. We followed them into the house, and though my father and uncle moved in a slow and cautious manner, Jesse’s jaw clenched and he groaned in a way that made my breath catch.

  Once they got him settled on a bed, Mama turned to me. “Zee, you sit with him for a moment while I speak with Frank. I want to find a way to get word to Zerelda so she knows Jesse is here. Then I’ll be back. Perhaps later we can try to give him some soup. He needs nourishment to build his strength.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Jesse’s chest rose and fell in a halting way, as though his lungs could not fill completely with air. I brushed aside the shock of sandy hair that covered his forehead.

  At my touch, his eyes opened and darted around the room before he focused on my face. “Zee?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Is it you?”

  I took his hand felt the calloused palms of a horseman. I’d already learned from Mama that reassurance must be one of the first treatments given to a patient. “Yes, Jesse. You’re safe. We’re going to take care of you until you’re better. Rest now, and very soon you’ll recover your strength.”

  My words appeared to bring a small measure of comfort. His eyes closed, and his body relaxed into the mattress. As he slept, I took the opportunity to study my cousin’s face.

  He was nearly eighteen, two years younger than me, yet he struck me as much older and harder than the last time we’d been together, five—or was it six?—years earlier. His family had stopped by to visit us on their way to a funeral. Jesse and I were walking together in the yard when he grabbed my arm and threw down a challenge. “Unless you give me my first kiss, Zee, I’ll climb up to the hayloft and jump right out to the ground.”

  The foolish comment reminded me of a melodramatic story I’d recently read, and I laughed at his blatant impudence. But I tilted up my head to lightly touch my lips against his. Now that same young man lay before me, still and quiet with the dust of travel settled over him and a gleam on his skin that hinted of fever. I decided not to wait any longer for Mama. If I fetched the water myself, I could at least cool him down and sponge him clean.

  But when I attempted to pull away my hand, his fingers tightened around mine.

  4

  Water sloshed from the basin Mama carried into Jesse’s room. She wetted a muslin rag and squeezed the cloth before wiping his face. Then she dipped and wiped again, running the cloth up and down each arm in turn. “I will stay here with him through the night, and you can take over in the morning. Frank plans to leave at dawn. He’ll try to get word to Zerelda that Jesse is in our care. She must be frantic with worry by now.”

  My cousin’s face was as pale as the sheet that covered him, and his sunken eyes frightened me, but I nodded and went to my bed. I closed my eyes, but sleep would not come. The responsibilities and risks that had arrived at our door consumed me, even as pride curved my lips into a smile. No one in the family had spoken of turning Jesse away.

  When the soft light of dawn gleamed through the window, I tiptoed from my bed and hurried to Jesse’s room, wondering how he had fared during the night. Mama dozed in a chair, her chin drooping toward her chest. A white pitcher and basin stood next to the candle, which had burned down to a nub, melting soft wax from the holder to the tabletop. Jesse slept with no sheen of perspiration that might indicate fever. When I stepped closer, Mama lifted her head and yawned before she noticed me standing next to her.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “How is Jesse doing, Mama?”

  “He seems to be holding his own. I gave him some broth last night, and he fell asleep soon after. Rest and nourishment are what he needs most to help his body mend.” She smoothed a gentle hand over his shoulder and sighed. “I will clean the wound again, then I must see what food I can gather for Frank before he leaves us. You can go from the room while I change the bandage if you want. His injury is not pleasant to see.”

  “No, I’ll stay. I’ve helped you before with illness and wounds. I can do so again.”

  Mama nodded approvingly and worked loose the buttons on Jesse’s shirt. Pushing aside the edges, s
he exposed bandages streaked dark with blood and wrapped thick over the middle of his chest. Mama pulled the soiled cloth away piece by piece, using her dampened rag to loosen places that stuck to the wound.

  When the entire lesion was exposed, I clapped a hand over my mouth. The open hole was red and swollen, and the sweetly sick odor of infection reached my nose. Jesse flinched under Mama’s hand as she ran a damp cloth over crusts of dried blood to wash them away. With each swipe, fresh blood oozed to take the place of what she had removed, and its metallic scent filled the room. Mama worked until satisfied the wound was clean, then placed fresh bandages against Jesse’s chest.

  “Frank said two doctors saw him in Lexington right after the injury occurred. They both found it best not to remove the bullet. It’s better to leave it there than to poke about in his lung. This is his second chest wound in less than a year’s time.” She shook her head. “Our work will be to keep the wound clean, give his body time to heal, and hope the bullet does no further damage.”

  “Shouldn’t our doctor see him? Traveling could have caused more problems.”

  “Once Frank is safely away, Papa will arrange for Dr. Lykins to visit.” She sighed. “I think your cousin could use some prayers in addition to good nursing care.”

  “Of course,” I murmured. “He shall be in my prayers every night.”

  “You and Jesse always got on well together, didn’t you? I know that made Zerelda happy.”

  “Jesse had a way about him that made me smile. Even if we had a disagreement, he always made sure to put things right between us. I’ll do whatever I can to help him get well.”

  “I know you will. In spite of your stubbornness, I must confess you are a good daughter.” She patted my cheek before picking up the basin, now filled with blood-stained water.

  I smiled as she left the room. It wasn’t common for Mama to bestow compliments, and I knew she’d been unhappy with me since I continued to refuse Mr. Locke’s attentions.

  I busied myself smoothing wrinkles from Jesse’s blanket and scraping melted wax from the table. The pink light of dawn peeked through the window with the promise of a sunny day, and it drew my gaze for a dreamy moment. When I glanced back at the bed, I was startled to discover Jesse’s eyes were open. He looked brighter and less exhausted than he had a few hours earlier.

  “Good morning. Would you like some water?”

  He nodded, and I poured from the pitcher into a cup. Lifting his head with one hand, I rested the cup against his lips. He took two sips before his head sank back into the pillow, his breathing ragged from the effort.

  I waited for it to steady before asking, “How do you feel today?”

  The muscles in his jaw twitched. “Like an ornery mule kicked me in the chest.” His voice was raw, his tone petulant.

  “I’m not surprised. Between your injury and being bounced for miles in that buckboard, it’s a wonder you’re alive. Would you like to try eating something?”

  “Maybe later. Let’s see how the water sits first. I haven’t been able to keep much of anything down in a while.” Jesse turned his face toward the window, where the low clouds of early morning held a brighter shade of pink and blue. He blinked rapidly.

  “If the light bothers you, I can close the curtains.”

  “God, no. Don’t do that. It would make me feel like I’m in a tomb. I don’t want to lay in darkness any sooner than I have to.”

  “You’re well on the path to recovery. All you need do is concentrate on resting and getting back your strength.”

  His lips turned up slightly at the corners. “You sound like Ma. Willing me to get well like one of those miracle-working preachers.”

  “I don’t believe miracles are necessary. You just need time.”

  Jesse closed his eyes, apparently spent from the effort at conversation. The chair squeaked as I leaned back to watch him and wait. Within a short while, Frank clomped into the room, making no effort to be quiet. Jesse’s eyes popped open.

  “Well, Dingus, I’m leaving you in Zee’s capable hands, so behave yourself.”

  My brows lifted and I looked at Frank. “Dingus?”

  “It’s a nickname our troop gave him. Last summer, he was loading pistols when one exploded and shot off the tip of his middle finger. The pain would’ve made most men cuss a blue streak, but my little brother yells out, ‘That’s the dod-dingus pistol I ever saw!’ The men who heard him laughed so hard they were crying like babies. We’ve been calling him Dingus ever since.”

  I shot a glance at Jesse’s hand, now laying atop his blanket. I’d been so consumed with his current injury, I hadn’t even noticed the older one. Dingus. What kind of word is that? I shook my head at the strange story and excused myself to give my cousins privacy.

  A few minutes later, Frank joined me in the hallway. Brow wrinkled, he reached for my hand. “Take good care of him, Zee. You’re exactly what he needs. With your sweet ways, he’ll do what he can to please you. A pretty young girl is the best medicine in the world for any man.”

  “You know I will.” I kissed Frank’s cheek. “We’ll try to send word to your mother on his progress.”

  “And I’ll find a way for you to get word to me, as well.”

  I gave him a hug and whispered, “Take care of yourself, too.”

  Frank nodded and turned toward the door, moving with lean grace. I didn’t follow him. Instead, I went to the kitchen, where Mama had broth heating in a kettle. I took a slice of roasted chicken planned for the midday meal, and I cut it into small pieces, throwing them into the broth. Perhaps meat would tempt Jesse to eat more and help him gain back some of the weight he’d lost.

  When I picked up the bowl and turned, Mr. Locke stood before me. “Miss Mimms, I would be honored if you would walk with me after dinner this evening.”

  I held my ground and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, sir, but one of our guests is very ill and I need to sit with him.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard about that young man. He’s been operating outside the law, hasn’t he?”

  My back stiffened. “Indeed not, Mr. Locke. The man is a patriot and fine soldier in need of our care. I advise you to never again slander his character in my presence.”

  With heat in my face, I stepped around him and left the kitchen before anything more could be said. Lucy was just coming from Jesse’s room, her arms filled with soiled sheets and bandages. She looked at me and raised a brow when we passed each other. I thumped Jesse’s bowl of soup hard on the table next to the bed and some of the broth splashed out.

  Jesse looked at me, squinting his eyes. “Your face is bright red. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing you need concern yourself with.” I forced myself to unclench my fisted hand and smile.

  “Nothing? I don’t believe you.” He paused a moment. “Wait, I know what’s going on. It’s that old buzzard your mama’s pushing as a suitor who’s bothering you, isn’t it? When Lucy changed the bedding, she told me about him.”

  “Sometimes my sister talks too much. It’s nothing to worry over. From time to time he does things to devil me, that’s all.”

  “Listen to my advice and stick to your guns. Don’t ever let anyone push you into doing something you don’t want. That’d be worse than a hangman’s noose.”

  “Good advice from one who so often tempts the hangman.” Jesse barked out a laugh and then winced.

  I gave him a schoolmarm’s measured look. “Perhaps such levity is not good for your injury.”

  “You are good for my injury. And your remarks are as tart as I remember them. I guess you’re not so overly fearful I’m at death’s door if you can joke about it.”

  I held up the bowl of soup, and said, “If you’re wise enough to do what I say and eat every bite I give you, your chance of survival will be even greater.”

  With a slight wince, he raised the arm with the injured finger and gave me a crisp salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I lifted the spoon to his mouth and he took the soup
in the determined way of one doing his duty, rather than with any real sense of hunger. It didn’t matter. A small sense of victory fortified me with each bite he swallowed. Once he emptied the bowl, I wiped the corner of his mouth with my apron.

  His hand moved to his middle. “I can’t remember the last time I had such a full belly. Now let’s hope the soup will stay put.”

  “It will settle better if you try to sleep. Close your eyes, and I promise to be here when you wake.”

  His eyes drooped, and his voice betrayed his weariness. “I’m beginning to think the whole rebel army would have fared better if you were the one looking out for them.”

  Before long, Jesse’s eyelids closed, and he did not speak further. I waited until his breath came steady, and watched him sleep for a few minutes, before carrying the bowl to the kitchen.

  Mama stood at the window, staring outside. When she turned, there were dark crescents under her eyes. “This morning, a Union soldier cornered Papa and Uncle Thomas when they drove into town to make arrangements for Dr. Lykins to visit. He wanted to know who we had in the boarding house and said they were keeping track of any rebels who had fought against them. Papa thought it best to say nothing of Jesse.”

  “Do you think Federals would ever ride out here to look?”

  “I pray not, but in times of such high suspicion, it’s impossible to predict what might happen.”

  The door to the kitchen creaked open, and we both jumped.

  Mr. Locke sauntered in. “Good morning, ladies. I’m looking for a spare bit of biscuit to tide me over until we eat. May I take one?”

  My heart thumped as Mama smiled and handed him a cold biscuit, a slight tremble in her normally unwavering hand. He took it and nodded in my direction before taking his leave.

  I touched Mama’s arm and whispered, “Do you suppose he heard?”

  She sat down as though her knees had gone weak. “I hope not, but in any case, I don’t believe he would try to cause trouble. I do think it best though, if we confine any talk of Jesse or Frank to the ears of our own kin and no one else.” She took a steadying breath. “Did he eat anything?”